Of Roses and Severed Heads
by BlackReaver
Summary: Sirius has no idea what to do with an infant godson and if he was being perfectly honest with himself, he had no idea what to do with Remus either. Only he knew he needed them both. AU. Eventual Slash.
1. Rowena Crescent

**Rowena Crescent.**

The deafening roar of a motorbike tore an elderly fellow, a Mr Hopkins to be exact, from his peaceful dreams of imminent death and a rather ... erm ... personal encounter with a delightful girl he had courted in his youth. She had been a charming young lady, exotic looking, with olive skin and mesmerising dark eyes, and she still danced into his subconsciousness occasionally, more so in recent weeks as he contemplated his impending departure from the natural world. Incurable case of Dragon Pox, you see - not that Dragon Pox were exceptionally deadly, in fact, it was one of the more pleasant magical maladies one could suffer - however, at the not so tender age of one hundred and thirty-four, Mr Hopkins could feel that his ticker was going to stop ticking soon.

Unfortunately for Mr Hopkins, and many people who he had encountered him in his lifetime, he had an insatiably nosey personality and a horrible beaky sort of nose, that made everything just _nosier_, it really was terrible. Said nosy personality led Mr Hopkins to drag his exceptionally poxed body up into a sitting position and manoeuvre his aching legs over the edge of his bed so that he could press his face up against the cool glass of the window pain when the need arose. Only last week did he have his eldest grandchild, Henry (or maybe his name was Herbert ... or Gus ... he could never really remember, it was the hairy one though, he knew that!), move his bed closer to the window so that he could more easily spy on his neighbours in Rowena Crescent, a small magical community that backs unto the fringes of Godrics Hollow, a much larger, and in Mr Hopkins opinion, a rather too pleasant place to live, no descent gossip or quarrels there!

Although, apparently that Bathilda Bagshot was a bit of a nutter nowadays. The neighbours must get driven up the walls! Never mind that though, Mr Hopkins had more pressing matters at hand.

Peering out the window with his nose pressed right up agains the glass, his shaky breath rattling against it, Mr Hopkins could see the tail lights of a motorbike disappearing down the lane.

Hm, how odd, a _Motortricyclist,_ or whatever it was called. It was not very often that muggles had any business around Rowena Crescent, and Mr Hopkins knew certainly that no wizard would willingly ride on one of those ridiculous contraptions, so it could only be a muggle, albeit a confounded one. Mr Hopkins wondered a moment longer what could have brought the lost soul out on such a magical night, for muggles at least, Halloween.

Deciding that it was of really no importance Mr Hopkins pulled his legs back up, taking only a few seconds to notice they had turned a lovely puce shade and seemed to have begun developing some scales along his shins, and settled them back under the covers of his bed, wriggled back down into the sheets and laid his head down on the pillow, asleep in 54 seconds.

Little did Mr Hopkins know that it was not a lost muggle tearing through Rowena Crescent, but it was in actual fact a young wizard by the name of Sirius Black. Little did he know that something had indeed happened at Godrics Hollow, something that would forever change the Wizarding World - Lord Voldemort had been defeated by none other than little Harry Potter! Little did he know that this would be the night would change the lives of two young men and a newly orphaned child forever.


	2. Of Roses and Severed Heads

**Of Roses and Severed Heads.**

Sirius Black had never been a religious man. EVER. So he found it strange (and upon reflection slightly absurd) that as he was weaving through the traffic between Peter's hideout and Godrics Hollow that he prayed to whatever god there was that he was wrong. Please, please let him be wrong.

Or even better, he's finally cracked it. Yes. Please let him have finally lost his marbles. It would be a relief really. After all, he would only be following a long list of inbred relatives that have already paved his way. It would surely be a jolly stroll down a well-worn path, bordered by roses and mounted house-elf heads. Lovely. Great Aunt Elladora would certainly be _proud_ of him. Maybe his mother too. Unlikely, that dragon hated him, but that didn't matter. You didn't need to love someone to be proud of them, not all the time anyway. Merlin he knew he was exceptionally proud of Snivellus the day his nose _somehow_ managed to get to DADA a full two minutes and thirteen seconds before the rest of his body did. Well, that thought proved he was insane. Off his bloody rocker.

That could be the only _logical_ reason.

Because Peter was keeping the Potter's secret, locked away in that slightly too pudgy chest of his, tucked up neatly in his little soul. Safe and sound. Peter Pettigrew was a Marauder until the very end and he would never betray them. Not like Remus. Certainly nothing like Remus. The traitor.

Sirius ignored the ache in his chest, which pressed on his stomach ever so slightly, but enough to make him feel sick, as he thought about Remus. _Lupin_. That. Fucking. _Traitor_. He involuntarily revved the engine so that he was practically flying down on the road as he thought about Lupin.

Enough of that, he told himself firmly.

Remus thought Sirius was the Secret Keeper. Peter was safe, he was probably just out for a little stroll, he hated being trapped, must have something to do with being a rat and most importantly, Remus did not know about their little change in plans. So naturally, James and Lily and Harry were perfectly safe. Of course they were. How could they not be? He knew he was being stupid. He knew it. But it didn't explain the horrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, which was certainly not helped by the ache in his chest, or by the fact there was a faint green glow in the distance.

Bloody Fuck. That cannot be possible. He sent out another silent prayer that his friends were all safe, that he was wrong. That he was oh so terribly wrong. But he wasn't. He was oh so terribly right. As he turned into the street of the Potter's home, he saw the Dark Mark, and he felt as though someone had just ripped his heart right out of his body.

No. NO. _No! _

Beneath the sickening green skull and snake, was the Potter's home. NO. Stumbling off his motorcycle, Sirius made his way across the little garden path that Lily had so lovingly tended to and up to the front door, which was wide open. Gripping onto the door jam, Sirius had to learn how to breathe again, as his body seemed to have forgotten.

_In. _

_ Out. _In.

Out. In._ In. _

_ Fuck, _thats not right_. Out. In._

He had managed to achieve a few ragged gasps, when a huge figure emerged through the cloud of darkness and death that seemed to permeate throughout the hallway.

Before he could even think he had his wand drawn, ready to fight to the death, to protect his friends. His only family.

"Sirius?" The great hulking figure said in a familiar voice, but that was no reassurance that he was safe, he was familiar with most of the Death Eaters, family friends you see. "Sirius, is tha' you?"

But once his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the hallway, Sirius recognised Hagrid.

"Hagrid! Thank Merlin its you ... W-where are James and Lily?"

A pause. Oh no.

"Hagrid?"

"Oh Sirius. It's jus' s-so awful! I'm so sorry, I ... they ... i' was alrea'y too late when I got here," Hagrid said, snuffling horribly into his coast sleeve. He was holding a bundle with his other arm, but Sirius didn't really care. He didn't notice when the little bundle began to wriggle, either.

Sirius just stood there, face ashen and body trembling as he tried to comprehend what Hagrid had just said. He was wrong. Hagrid had to be wrong. They couldn't be dead. It just wasn't possible. Prongs would never ... and Lily couldn't be, isn't, dead. She wouldn't be, she had too look after Harry and try to deflate Prongs ego whilst still being the loving caring woman she was. She still had to relentlessly badger Sirius about thinking of settling down, so that he could argue about how he was only twenty-one and had no wish to be as whipped as Prongs just yet. Lily had to have ridiculously intelligent-sounding conversations about some exceptionally obscure little branch of magic theory with Moony. With Remus. Who wasn't the spy. He couldn't have been. It was Peter.

Oh bloody hell! It was _Peter_.

Sirius pushed past Hagrid, who was still hovering in the hallway, wailing and shouting out "Bloody unfair!" or "No' Lily n' James" or something. Staggering into the living room Sirius found James lying on the floor, his limbs contorted in impossible angles.

"Prongs?" Sirius called desperately as he fell to his best friends still side. "James? James, wake u-up." Sirius shook James body, but his friend refused to respond. Stubborn git. Wake. UP.

"Jamie, you've got to wake up," He pleaded. But James didn't move. And Sirius knew he wasn't going to. James Potter was never going to move of his own volition ever again. He was dead. Sirius looked into the unseeing eyes of the man he had called a brother and with trembling hands closed his eyelids and straightened the glasses on his face. They had been crooked, something that irritated James incessantly, because one of his ears stuck out more than the other and it made his glasses _sit_ _funnily_ and it was one of the only things he has ever been self-conscious about. And he couldn't leave James like that. Not with _crooked_ glasses.

A silent sob wracked through his body, leaving an ice cold sensation lingering in his chest. Or maybe it was just an aftershock from the dark magic still crackling through the air; damp and sticky and freezing cold. After all, Sirius was no stranger to this sensation, he'd witnessed the carnage from Death Eater attacks too often to be ignorant of the effects of Dark Magic. That and he was a Black, so magic coursed somewhat richer through his poisoned blood. Not that he would admit that to anyone. But this feeling hurt more than what residual magic usually did. So maybe it was both.

He'd found James, cold and dead at twenty-one, but what of Evans? Where was Lily? And the baby? Harry?

He ran out of the room and up the stairs and straight into the nursery. Lily would never have left her baby unprotected. Not Ever. He had known what he would find there, but that didn't mean he was prepared to see it. There was Lily, lying crumpled on the floor, her body delicate and broken, red hair splayed over her face, green eyes staring unseeing up at her baby's cot. _Harry_.

The thought of seeing his dead godson undid Sirius and he ran from the nursery. From the lifeless body of his best friends wife and their little son. He ran until he was out of the house and collapsed on his knees in the middle of the road, in a total state of shock.

"They're all dead," he muttered to himself over and over again, vaguely aware of Hagrid trying to get his attention.

Didn't he get it?

They were dead.

Nothing else mattered.

He had failed them and they were _dead_.

Hagrid's voice was getting louder though, almost as if he was wailing. Like a baby. But Hagrid was a fully grown man, he shouldn't sound like a baby. Sirius looked up sharply at the enormous man in front of him and noticed the bundle in his arms was wriggling. And Crying. _Harry_. He had survived. What?

Sirius pulled himself to his feet. His godson was still _alive_ and hell would sooner freeze over than Sirius Black not look out for Harry James Potter. He still couldn't really make out what Hagrid was saying, his attention was focused solely on Harry. He had a cut on his forehead. Lily would be horrified, he hoped he didn't have to tell her. And then he remembered he wouldn't have to. No one would.

"Hagrid, I need to take Harry home, he's hurt his head," Sirius said, gently brushing the messy black hair off his godson's forehead, revealing a small cut in the shape of a lightening bolt. It looked like it had hurt.

Hagrid shook his head. "I can'. Dumbledore tol' me I gotta take Harry to his aunt an' uncles, I do."

"To Petunia?"

What a ridiculous idea.

"Bollocks, Petunia hates ... hated? ... hates _Lily_, why would Dumbledore want Harry to _go_ to _her_? But that doesn't matter. I'm his godfather, I'm supposed to take him."

Sirius tried to reach for Harry, but Hagrid stepped back. Harry cried louder. Good boy.

"I can' give 'im to ya. I got order's from Dumbledore, ya' see?"

"Lily and James wanted me to look after Harry if anything happened to them. Not Petunia! Hagrid, you ..." Sirius was desperate, he couldn't lose Harry as well. Harry, who was now screaming. Atta boy.

"Please, I'm begging you. Give me Harry. I'll sort everything out with Dumbledore. I promise. But I _can't_ let you give him to those muggles."

"I don' no 'bout that," Hagrid said uncertainly. Sirius could see his resolve wavering, everyone in the Order knew Sirius won nearly every argument he had, out of sheer stubbornness and narcissism. So no one really bothered to argue with him for very long.

"Hagrid please, just give him to me. _Please_."

Hagrid looked at Sirius with a pained expression and Sirius knew he had won.

"Oh, alrigh', but you sor' this out with Dumbledore, ya hear?" Hagrid said as he passed the still wailing bundle over to Sirius. Thank Merlin.

"Thank you," Sirius told the other man, as he tried to soothe his little godson. "Shh, Harry, its all right. I've got you. I've got you."

Harry seemed to quiet a little. He looked so innocent. Too innocent to be an _orphan_.

Sirius wrapped him up securely in the blanket and held him close to his body, trying to warm the two of them up. It was really terribly cold. _Icy_. Sirius considered his options. It was too dangerous to fly with Harry on to motorbike, what if he fell? But he could hardly stay here. The authorities will he here any minute and as far as anyone knew he was the Secret Keeper. They'd cart him off to Azkaban as soon as look at him. The only people who knew the truth were either dead or a traitorous bastard.

Peter.

He had to find him. Make him pay. But he couldn't do that with Harry. No. That was a problem. He refused to let Harry be taken in by those muggles. But who could he _trust_ to look after Harry?

Remus.

_Remus_ _Lupin_. Moony.

Because he wasn't a traitor. He hadn't betrayed anyone. Of course not, he could never. How could Sirius not have seen? How could he have been so stupid? Remus had loved James and Lily and especially Harry with everything he had.

Peter. That. _Rat_. Peter had framed him. That bastard. He hadn't just betrayed the Potter's, he hurt Remus too. Remus, who was without a doubt the most inherently good person Sirius knew.

Well, it was decided.

He would go to Moony, who would help him. Moony, who would look after Harry for him, because when had he ever denied anyone anything?

Sirius nodded to Hagrid as a means of goodbye, feeling slightly guilty for leaving the giant man sobbing in the street.

"Its okay, Harry," he whispered into his godson's ears, and he prayed that he wasn't a liar.

He was wary of apparating, especially with Harry, but it was the safest way for them to flee and Sirius had to do it quickly. Sirius knew Remus would be at his parents home so soon after the full moon, it was only two days ago and it would have been the first time in over four years that the wolf would not have had his pack with him for a transformation. How badly had Remus been hurt? Shit. He needed to go. _Now_.

Closing his eyes, he imagined the little red door of the Lupin's cottage, and disapparated.


	3. Hence these Tears

**Hence these Tears.**

Sirius and Harry appeared outside the Lupin's little home at precisely two o'clock in the morning. Thankfully, Sirius noted, there was a little light left on in the front room, he wouldn't have to wake everyone up ... or break in. Again.

Mrs Lupin had not been best pleased with him the last time that happened. Which may have only been last year. And they (Sirius and Remus) may have been highly intoxicated at the time, and they may have brought an actual deer into the house, not the Prongs kind, but the real deer kind. They thought it was a marvellous achievement, at the time. Mrs Lupin, however, did not. Especially since Remus no longer lived at home and he only came back the few days after each full moon to recover a bit. She had dragged both Sirius and Remus through the house by their ears and booted them outside into the back garden. Without their wands. It had been snowing. A lot. Suffice to say Remus had not been best pleased with Sirius either.

_It's funny what you think of when your best friends die_. It really was.

Sirius discovered this to be an exceptionally sobering thought and began to make his way up the little garden path, relishing in the feel of a frigid wind on his skin. It _hurt_, but he could feel it. Somewhat philosophical, and mostly due to the fact he was certainly still in shock, Sirius thought that was what being alive meant. You got hurt a lot, but you could still _feel_.

James and Lily would never get to feel anything again. Not love, or joy, or sex, or pumpkin mashed into their faces by their son, or the leaves in autumn or the frigid wind.

Sirius was at the door now. Looking down he discovered Harry to be asleep. The poor kid.

What is Remus didn't believe him? What if he called the Ministry and took Harry away from him?

No. The Remus Sirius knew would never do that, in fact, if he ever met Voldemort he would probably let the bastard explain himself and be kind and let him finish his piece, and then kill him. But he would let him _speak_.

And 'speak' was all that Sirius would need.

Sirius knocked on the door with three succinct taps. Then silence. Sirius waited. Then finally, footsteps. Not of the Moony or Mr Lupin kind, which were a gentle sort of _clop_. No, this was the Mrs Lupin kind, There was hell of a lot of soul in those little footsteps. He couldn't tell whether he was relieved or terrified that it was Mrs Lupin.

Of all his friends parents, he probably liked Moony's mum best. Not that he hadn't loved Mr and Mrs Potter, Merlin knew he did, he loved them as he ought to have loved his own parents, but Mrs Lupin was different. She - in short - was awesome. It probably had something to do with the fact that she was a Muggle. She drove a _car_. She explained to him what a motorbike was in the summer of their fifth year, starting his love affair with the wonderful contraptions. She played The Beatles albums while cleaning. She also told the most wicked stories to her muggle friends to explain away the odd goings on in the Lupin household, and she _enjoyed_ it. Merlin, no wonder Remus was cheeky, his mother was the original Marauder! She also made the best homey sort of food. With love and butter and lots of other important stuff that was severely lacking in magically made food from his own home. It was no wonder Sirius thought she was brilliant, really. No wonder he was so afraid of her rejecting him.

Did she know that he had believed her son a traitor? That he had all but abandoned Remus? That the only occasions he had actually seen her son in the last three months was at Order meetings and the full moon before last? Would she hate him as much as he hated himself now? Really, he should expect nothing more. But he did, and the thought of her turning him away terrified him.

The lock clicked.

Sirius swore his heart stopped.

"Sirius?" Mrs Lupin said, opening the door. "Dear, are you - Oh!" She gasped as she saw the bleeding bundle in his arms.

"Mrs Lupin. Could I come in please?" He whispered, clutching Harry tighter to his chest.

"Sirius..." _What is going on?_

"Please. Please, we need help." _I can't talk about it out here. Please._

"Of course." _I'm scared of what you've done. _

He nods. _Sorry. I'm so sorry._

Ushering her unexpected visitors inside, Mrs Lupin stuck her head outside the doorway to make sure no neighbours witnessed their sudden appearance at her front doorstep. That had happened more times than she cared to count. Sirius watched her. She was dressed in a pale blue dressing gown and matching slippers. Her blonde hair was wiry, sticking up at the ends and seemed to bounce around of its own accord. She had big brown eyes, and Sirius had often found it odd that a feature that was so quintessentially Remus, could be something that was also so completely hers.

The threesome walked into the kitchen, where Sirius watched Mrs Lupin put the kettle on. She had not said anything else to him, yet she made up for it with her constant worried expression - afraid to find out what had happened yet needing to know just as desperately.

She placed a cup of tea in front of him.

"Thank you." _I'm so sorry._

She nodded. _What have you DONE?_

"Mrs Lupin?" Brown eyes met grey. "Is he all right?"

She nodded. Thank Merlin.

"Mrs Lupin?"

She looked at him, with the eyes of her son, bright and terrified and Sirius could see how tired she was. Not sleepy tired, but over absolutely everything tired. He had seen it often enough in Remus, which had never ceased to scare him, but it scared him three fold seeing it in Mrs Lupin. The woman was supposed to be unshakable. She had to be. How many other muggles could accept their only child was a werewolf and not be?

"I - Could I ... Could you get Remus please? I need to speak with him."

Silence.

Sirius was about to ask again when she finally spoke, staring firmly into the tea kettle.

"They're gone. Aren't they."

Sirius just looked at her, it was enough.

"Oh God," she began to sob. Quiet, gentle, but utterly heart wrenching sobs. Sirius was horrified as he watched the woman crumple into nothing but anguish and pain before his very eyes.

And then she was on him, holding him, hugging him, apologising to him. What could he do but take the love of a mother who was not his, and hope that it was enough?

Enough for what?

To make up the loss of his two brothers and countless others? For his horrible childhood? For the orphan in his arms? For the guilt threatening to swallow him hole in the middle of the Lupin's kitchen? He had no idea, but he knew for now at least, it was enough.

And then he was apologising to her in a desperate plea, telling her how sorry he was, how it was all his fault. She stroked his hair, her tears falling on top of his head, and he wished desperately that he had been wrong before, that he really had gone crazy. Because then he could have counted on Mrs Lupin coming into the ward in St Mungos for all the insane people and stroking his hair when all he saw was his horrible family and all the hurt and pain and insanity. She could have loved him regardless.

How could she love him now?

How could she even look at him?

He was perfectly sane and practically a murderer. It was all his fault. It was all on him. It was his responsibility to tell Remus, now.

"Mrs Lupin?"

"Why don't I take the little one and you go u - up? He had a hard time of it this month and I ... if I ... I think you ought to go, Sirius." She tells him, dabbing furiously at her red eyes. He is stunned by the sorrow in them. Of the love. Of the passion in them.

He gingerly placed Harry in her capable and loving arms and watched as she takes him into the sitting room, using the hem of her robe to wipe the blood off his little head, softly cooing to the sleepy baby. He was left sitting at the kitchen table, directly opposite the staircase leading up to Remus' bedroom.

The stairs looked impossibly high, and he wasn't too proud to admit that he was scared.

_Are you a man or a rat, Black?_

With no other alternative he stood.

He stood and he walked, up the stairs, along the hallway. He looked at the pictures littering the walls, watched as Remus took his first steps, as he ran around the sitting room which Mrs Lupin and Harry now occupied, completely starkers. Cute kid, honest. He watched as a skinny little boy with light brown hair and impossibly big brown eyes open a letter that he had never hoped to receive, and as the same little boy graduating seven years later, laughing with mirth at the antics of his friends. The world at their feet. Now two of them were going to be put six foot under everybody else's feet.

How was he to do this? Sorry Moony, Prongs and Lil packed it in tonight. Mind if the sprog and I crash at yours? Or even better, sorry I thought you were a lying bastard, wanna babysit so I can kill the rat who I trusted over you?

Merlin, this is gonna be fun. How could he do this the Remus? To Lily and James? To Harry?

The last step until the door seemed impossibly far away.

Unfortunately he reached it far too soon. His hand was on the handle. It was icy cold beneath his palm. So cold it felt as though his skin was being scalded. For a second he considered leaving. He could find Peter an kill him. Then he heard a faint snuffle from inside. He could have walked away from a silent door with disgusting ease, but not from a snuffling Remus Lupin.

He wouldn't.


	4. Rock, meet Hard Place

**Rock, meet Hard Place.**

After giving himself a firm pep talk _(man up Black, or you may as well ask to borrow one of Mrs Lupin's dresses now cause if you can't do this then you've lost your bits)_ he opened the door, cringing as it creaked open.

He didn't want to startle Remus.

A startled Remus was a dangerous thing, especially if the Remus you were dealing with was a Lupin. It was a well known fact. Or well known to Sirius at least. He considered himself somewhat of an expert on this matter and in ten years of knowing _a_ _Remus_ he had become well practiced in avoiding incidents in which the result was likely to be a startled Remus. Creaky, squeaky or talking doors were to be avoided at all costs. Even more so than wanking whilst moaning the name 'Evans' a little too loud (Sirius failed to see how a last name was even remotely sexy, especially _Evans_ cause really, that could easily be mistaken for Evan and that was a boy's name and being male another male name should _not_ sound sexy. Unless it was Sirius. _Sirius_ was always sexy) or pillow fights or Barbra Streisand renditions at 2 a.m. in the morning and other noises that generally tended to wake people up.

Thankfully, Remus did not wake. It was a small victory, but at the present, Sirius would take what he could get.

Only as Sirius crept across the room, aware of every _crick_ his feet made as they connected with the floor boards, did he realise that Remus not waking was no victory at all.

Sirius knelt down beside the bed and gently began to pull away the numerous blankets that were doing a fantastic job of obscuring Remus from view.

Please be all right.

Please, please, _please_ be okay.

I don't want to hurt you. Not again. Please.

Finally, _finally _Sirius broke through the blanket barrier on the bed and discovered the broken features of Moony. He was white as the Grey Lady (she was the _palest_ ghost Sirius had ever laid eyes on), with a horrible gash running across the bridge of his nose down across his left cheek. It would probably _scar_ and Remus would _hate_ it, but he would have to see it all the time because it was on his nose. There was still blood caked in his light brown hair. The moon had not been kind to him and it was all Sirius' fault.

He looked so fragile. So hurt. It was worse than 'the Prank', even.

Sirius felt as though someone had ripped out his heart and set a Hungarian Horntail loose on it. Or his mother. Probably his mother.

Sirius placed his hand on Remus' shoulder, and shook him gently.

"Remus, wake up."

Remus' brown eyes fluttered open, gazing around the room in a sleep induced daze until they settled on Sirius' face, not a full three inches from his own. He looked utterly bewildered and exhausted. Sirius noticed he had purple marks underneath his eyes too.

_I'm so sorry, Remus. _

"_Sirius_? What on earth are you - Fuck!"

Remus' question was cut short by a the sound of a bone cracking as he made to sit up, clutching his side. Sirius knew that broken bones were not an uncommon occurrence for Remus, but they had to be treated straight away, otherwise, it would likely kill him. It was dangerous that they had been left untreated for so long, almost two full days. Mrs Lupin must not know, otherwise she would have done something about it already. He had to fix them before ... well, before. Maybe he was looking for something to put off telling Remus the truth.

_Maybe_? Definitely.

Either way, Sirius was between and rock and a hard place. He just had to decide which was which.

"Where is it hurting?" Sirius asked as he deftly untangled the other young man from the bedsheets currently encasing him.

"My ribs. I must have cracked a fair few. Maybe b-broken a couple."

Remus hissed as Sirius touched his side, fingers gently feeling along the purple flesh marred with dried blood and scars. He wasn't too far from the truth. Sirius could feel at least three broken ribs. Maybe four.

"Do you think you can walk?" Sirius asked quietly.

"Maybe."

Sirius gives him _the_ look.

"I'm fine, Sirius," Remus snaps rather curtly. Merlin, he must be in a lot of pain to be blatantly rude, or insanely pissed. Probably both by the looks of it.

"Remus, stop being so bloody stubborn, can you walk or not?" Though the words themselves were harsh, Sirius asks them gently and he can see Remus relax a little.

Silence. Sirius waits. Remus wages brutal internal war.

Then finally...

A sigh. "Not really, no."

"Okay," said Sirius, relieved Remus was being straight with him. He wasn't up for a fight. Not tonight. Not with Remus at least.

"Okay," Remus repeated with a slight nod of his head, a resigned look in his eyes. He knew what was coming and Sirius knew he found it utterly humiliating. Sirius guessed he could understand that it would be rather awful, especially if you were as hell bent on being strong and independent as Remus was.

Sirius picked up the alarmingly thin frame of his friend, hooking his own strong arms underneath knobbly limbs and carried Remus into the bathroom, _bridal _style. He could feel Remus trembling in his arms.

"S'okay Moony, I've got you." _I've got you and I promise I'm not letting go._

Remus allowed his head to fall onto Sirius' chest. _I know._

Sirius held him closer. _If only you did._

Remus apparently had nothing more to add to their silent conversation and remained uncommunicative as they walked on.

Once the pair made it into the Lupin's tiny bathroom Sirius drew the bath and helped Remus out of his clothes. Sirius was again stunned at how waif-like Remus had become. How sickly he looked. How haunted his eyes were. Like they could see everything Sirius had not said and everything Remus was choosing to ignore. It was terrible, the person Sirius knew and loved was literally wasting away. He felt sick to the bone.

Remus saw his shocked expression and his eyes hardened.

"I'm _fine. _You needn't look so shocked, you know as well as I the perk's of becoming a fully fledged monster once a month. I deserve this. I do."

The first part was true, Sirius had read more books on Lycanthropy than even Remus had and that was saying something. But this was certainly not just the disease. Something else had done this to Remus, something much more terrible. _War_. It seemed to have invaded his body, corroding it from the inside out, stealing Remus and replacing him with a hollow, haunted soul. Well, Sirius wasn't just going to sit idle and let Remus believe that rubbish.

"Remus, _listen_ to me. You a not a monster and I cant think of anyone who deserves this _less_ than you. How can you say that? You ... your so good." They were probably the most honest words Sirius had ever spoken. "Why don't you let yourself see that?"

"I am a werewolf, Sirius. That's all I can ever be," Remus said to him in a perfectly calm tone, but Sirius could see the pain those words caused him. Telling Remus otherwise would definitely start an argument and Remus was too weak to deal with that and he was too messed up to deal with it either, so Sirius backtracked.

"S'not the lycanthropy, Moony," he said quietly, as he began to heal some of the superficial wounds on Remus' shoulder.

"What?"

"It's not you, Moony. It's the war. It hurt you."

"It hurt everyone, Sirius," Remus said in a tired voice, eyes focused on the steam rising from the tub. Sirius remained silent and pensive, suddenly all too aware of the truth in his words.

War had inadvertently seeped into the bones of everyone around him, presenting itself in their ashen faces, constant worried brows and the reappearance of those nervous habits that everyone thought they had finally kicked at the end of their NEWT's. Sirius himself had started to smoke again. Much to the irritation of Evans, as she insisted it was bad for the baby. Oh_ Lily_. No, he couldn't think about that now. He had to look after Moony. Broken and bloodied and in need of his care.

The war had taken its toll on Remus especially. The one person who had the least to gain from any of it.

How was that fair?

Well Einstein, I think you'll find nothing that happened tonight was exactly fair, was it? Snipped his inner voice.

He hated that his inner voice was so snarky and right _all_ the time. That and the fact it sounded a little too much like his mother for him to be comfortable with it residing in his head.

Shut. _Up_. He told it. It did.

Sirius helped Remus into the tub and washed the blood and muck from his body, healed his _four_ broken ribs and fixed the gash on his nose as best he could. It would scar, though. Sirius hated that he couldn't get rid of it, that it stood out so much, an angry red cut marring milky white skin. After half an hour, Sirius could tell Remus had had enough. He had begun to shiver even though the water was still warm. So he helped dry and dress Remus, noticing the flush of his companions cheeks as he did so. Remus was never that good with the whole _naked_ thing. He couldn't even say the word (Naked. Naked. Naked). Apparently being starkers and surrounded by your nearest and dearest was a bit embarrassing - Sirius had never found it so and thought it rather endearing that Remus did. Bless his little cotton socks and all that rot.

"Thank you." Remus said once Sirius sat him down on the toilet, dressed in blue and white striped pyjamas, obviously relieved of the fabric now hiding his body from the rest of the world, or maybe it was just from Sirius, they were only the only ones in his bathroom after all.

"Not done yet," Sirius amended as he began to dry Remus' hair, making sure he didn't jostle Remus too much. Remus suffered from headaches in the first days after a transformation and they made him rather irritable.

Sirius was relieved to see that his efforts had been somewhat effective. The bruises and cuts on Remus' skin had largely disappeared, excepting the one on his nose and he wasn't wincing every time he breathed in. All the years at an exasperated Madame Pomfrey's side after a full moon had paid off. Remus had a bit more colour and the angular set of his body seemed softened somehow, he didn't look so sharp, so paper-thin. He wasn't hunched over so severely anymore and Sirius could now believe that Remus was only a two inches shorter than himself, he had thought Remus almost childlike in proportion when he had carried him to the bathroom. He _did_ look a little better. A little stronger. Strong enough to bear the news Sirius had to tell him? Could anyone be strong enough to bear that? Sirius knew he himself wasn't. It hadn't even fully registered what the death of the Potter's meant but he wasn't coping with it. But Remus was stronger than him and always had been, so maybe he could?

He tried to ignore the tense set of Remus' shoulders and how he was chewing on the inside of his lip. Because it meant that Remus knew something was wrong, that he knew had something to be worried about. It meant that he knew that Sirius was the cause for some sort of trouble, again. He also tried to ignore the tightness in his chest that seemed to knock the weight out of him when he caught Remus looking up at him with worried but _trusting_ eyes. Sirius wasn't stupid, he knew he and Remus had many, many, many unresolved problems, some he wasn't sure they could really fix, but Remus still had trusted him even when he was nothing short of a bastard towards him. How had Sirius let that trust that had been _unshakable_ between them become so completely one sided for so long?

"Moony ... Remus I-"..._can't do this. I can't do this! I can't._

"Sirius, what's happened?" Remus said barely louder than a whisper, yet he may as well have screamed them.

Sirius knelt down in front of the toilet seat, placed his hot and sweaty hands over Remus', which were folded neatly in his lap and looked the other man in the eye and smashed himself into the hard place (he decided Remus was the rock).

"They're dead. James and Lily. Wormtail betrayed them and Voldemort killed them."

"What? Peter? _Peter_ Pettigrew? How-"

"We swapped. He was Secret Keeper. He betrayed them." Remus flinched and drew his hands away from Sirius'. "I'm sorry, Remus. So fucking _sorry_."

For a few agonising moments Sirius watched as Remus looked at him in total disbelief, like Sirius had pulled some sick prank, then he could only watch in horror as the reality sunk in, as Remus realised that he was telling the truth, that Lily and James were gone. Sirius was helpless as he watched Remus' body crumple before him in the very same way his mother's did. He did not cry though, not that Sirius expected him to (he didn't think he'd ever seen Remus cry; not when they confronted him in their second year about his lycanthropy and not even at his father's funeral in their sixth year) but it was a relief regardless. But his eyes now looked hollow. _Dead_. It hurt to look at him, so Sirius looked away. Some Gryffindor he turned out to be. Almost as bad as Peter.

"_Harry_?" Remus croaked after another long, terrible silence.

"He's alive. He's downstairs with your mum. He's safe."

"Thank Merlin."

Yes, thank Merlin, Sirius thought as he pulled Remus into a fierce embrace, ignoring the fact that they were now in a puddle and breaking the carefully mapped out rules of social interaction between two very _British_ males. Sirius spent his childhood as the heir of the 'Most Noble and Ancient House of Black' and Remus was raised a gentleman, rules like that came with the territory, along with how to dance the waltz and _Latin_. Hugs and any other sort of physical affection were out of bounds and awkward and Remus was aces at awkward (drunkenness and full moons excepted).

It didn't matter now. They were grieving and needed to cling to something to reaffirm their existence so that they could begin comprehend what they had lost. What James and Lily had lost. What Harry had lost. The poor little tyke. And hugging Remus was _nice_.

It was easy, even if he was awkward and had a pointy elbow digging into Sirius' side, because it was _Remus_ and he was supposed to be awkward and pointy. They stayed that way for a long while, each trapped in their own miserable thoughts, though comforted with the knowledge that even though it was horrible and _scary_ and threatening to drown them in pain and overwhelming sadness, they weren't alone. Not completely.

There was hope still.


	5. Baby Mine

**Baby Mine.**

By the time Mrs Lupin found them with an important message to deliver, dawn was beginning to break over the horizon and the puddle that had been on the floor had been entirely soaked up by Sirius' trouser leg. Both boys were awake, huddled against the bathtub, Remus' head tucked under Sirius' chin.

Neither boy noticed her intrusion.

They looked more like children than the soldier's they were. She wanted to leave them there, protected in her little bathroom from the reality that awaited them as soon as they stepped out of the room; an orphaned baby, the deaths of their best friends and God knows what else there was in the crazy world of Magic. Remus had told her that the war getting worse and was threatening to spill into 'her world'. That these were dark times. That the funny deaths that appeared with rapidly growing frequency in the papers were from the wands of wizards. That she should make use of the magically reinforced basement if ever she felt something was off. That a Dark Lord - _Voldemort_ - had been searching for the Potter's, that they had gone into hiding.

Remus had refused to tell her anymore, about the Potter's or about any other aspect of his life. He was practically a stranger to her now. As if he were no longer apart of her anymore. She knew that there was _magic_ as well as blood running through his veins, providing him with an inextricable connection to a world she was not privy to. She knew he needed to keep that connection alive to keep his sanity. He _needed_ magic like she needed air. And the same went for Sirius, who, as she understood it, was akin to royalty in the wizarding world, and his magic was more primal and instinctual than her son's was. Ingrained in his soul. Magic for him was more necessary than air.

She could not contend with that.

She was keenly aware that their grief needed to be dealt with together, that their only hope of fixing themselves was through the one another and was loath to brake the magic even she could feel singing in the air, tingling her skin and almost whispering to her, but it was time. They had a visitor.

She taped her knuckles gently on the door.

They sprung to life, jumping off the floor and brandishing wands aimed at the intruder, at her. She had broken the spell that had been cast in the room, or however they did those sort of things. She could never remember, no matter how many times she had been told. There was something to be taken from the phrase 'ignorance is bliss'. Mrs Lupin was happier not knowing. It had served her well.

There was a hardness in Sirius' eyes that unnerved her as he looked to the doorway which she was standing in. She often found it too easy to forget he had seen more than she ever would, experienced _more_ devastation and loss than she could scarce comprehend. Remus had told her that he was an Auror, she understood that to be a role equivalent to the that of the police, in an unconscious attempt (so Remus thought) to right the insurmountable wrongs of his family.

Mrs Lupin had no idea how the boy could carry such a load and still be filled with so much life. Honestly, he had the boundless exuberance and thirst for life as a young pup. Yet his heritage showed itself plainly in his features.

He was handsome. Ridiculously so.

With piercing grey eyes and raven black hair that fell just so and a facial structure that was irrevocably haughty. _Regal_. The fact that he was tall and strong did not hurt either. He looked every bit the aristocrat he was, disgraced or not. The scuffed jeans and band tees and leather jacket he wore could not hide that.

Oh, yes. He was a rebel.

But she knew enough to know that he was a Black too, that it lived in him, lurking dormant in his system and she knew it terrified him. He was as scared of becoming like his family as Remus was of the moon. And that fear made him dangerous in some peoples minds. Mrs Lupin thought that made him human. The Auror people had not wanted to accept him, for fear of the name he carried, they had said, 'the mandrake does not grow far from the roots of it's forefathers, after all'. If anyone was to prove that wrong, Mrs Lupin was confident it would be Sirius. But _if_ she was wrong...

That didn't matter now, though.

Sirius Black was brave and he was a fighter and in the first second after she knocked on the door he had assumed a protective position in front of her son. In that instant Mrs Lupin knew Sirius was prepared to fight to the death for his friends, the people he considered family. That he would fight to save her son if the need arose. Thankfully they lowered their wands when they realised who it was. She watched as they cast worried glances at each other, wary of any news she could bring them.

"Mum?"

Mrs Lupin swore her heart broke as her son's voice cracked ever so slightly. She wanted to gather him up in her arms and hold him as she had done on countless occasions in his childhood, to sing him to sleep and tell him fairytales and make him forget to cruelty the real world was capable of. Because of his condition. Because of the 'dirty blood' running through his veins from her non-magical body. By giving him life, the most magical act anyone could ever hope to achieve, she had made him inferior. So to keep this from touching him she loved him fiercely. To let him know that there was love and happiness too, that he had a right to it as much as any other being on the earth.

But then she noticed how Sirius inched closer to her son's side so that the backs of their hands were now _touching_ ever so slightly and she noticed how Remus leaned into Sirius' touch. She noticed how her son had a new scar on his nose, healed too fast for her 'Muggle' treatment to have worked, so it must have been tended to by magic. Tended to by Sirius. She noticed the determined but war-weary look in his eye, and she knew she was no longer needed.

He was not a child anymore.

Had he ever really been one to begin with? His childhood had ended when he had been bitten. He had been scarcely more than a baby. Her _baby_.

But now he was not reliant on her, he did not need the protection she could not offer him in a world she was powerless against. Her role as mother now was virtually obsolete. He did not seek her for comfort anymore. That was evident enough in the fact in the two hours since Sirius had gone upstairs to tell him James and Lily had died, he had not come down to her, not once. He had stayed in the bathroom, cramped in between the tub and the toilet with Sirius. And as much as she loved Sirius as her own child, she couldn't help but hate him a little as she realised how much he owned _her_ role.

_Enough_, she told herself. This was not the time to think such things. Regardless of whether or not she was needed, she _was_ _a_ _mother_ and she would look after them. It came with the job description. She could contemplate these things later, she told herself, she had a job to do now.

Remus' voice brought her out of her mind. "Mum. What is it? Is Harry all right?"

"He's fine, sound asleep. You two have a visitor."

"Who?" Remus asked. Sirius looked alarmed.

"Professor Dumbledore, dear. He wishes to see you both at once. He is most eager to speak with you, Sirius."

Sirius swore.


	6. For the Best

**For the Best.**

"Fuck."

Remus elbowed him. _Ouch_, Moony.

Remus didn't seem to care his pointy elbow had practically embedded itself in Sirius' spleen, he looked irritated and nervous. Almost as nervous as Sirius felt.

"Sorry, Mrs Lupin," Sirius muttered, chancing a glance at the woman. She didn't look angry, rather she seemed deep in thought.

She nodded absentmindedly.

"Where's the Professor?" Remus asked, brushing a few still-wet strands of hair out of his eyes. He was probably embarrassed by the prospect of seeing Dumbledore in his pyjama's.

"In the kitchen," she replied quietly, her bottom lips quivering ever so slightly. She looked so broken.

"Okay. Come on, Padfoot."

Sirius followed dumbly behind Remus as he stopped in front of his mother and hugged her tightly, as he reluctantly let go and walked past Mrs Lupin and down the stairs, past all the pictures of his childhood and into the hallway.

Every fibre in Sirius' being was screaming to run in the opposite direction, to take Harry and Remus and just go. He was scared.

He was so scared.

Dumbledore didn't _know_.

And apart from Remus no one else knew either. Sirius had made sure of that. Merlin what an idiot.

Shit. Shit. _Shit_. Shit.

They were at the kitchen door now, he was out of time. Remus palm was on the handle. Before Sirius knew what he was doing he grabbed Remus wrist and pulled his hand away from the door. From Dumbledore. He needed Remus to know.

_Know_ _what, you miserable idiot?_

Sirius honestly did not know. _What_ did he need Remus to know? _What_?

"Sirius, what's-"

Brown eyes met grey, and in that instant, Sirius knew.

"If anything happens in there, you take Harry and run." _Make sure you're safe. Both of you. For me. Be safe. _

"Sirius-" _what's going on?_

"Promise me that you'll do it. That you'll be safe. I can't lose you too. Promise." _Not you. I know I would die if I lost you too. _

Remus gazed at him with an unfathomable look in his eye. It was an expression that never failed to make Sirius' stomach squirm in a not totally unpleasant sort of way. It made him feel as though Remus was _seeing_ him. All of him. He couldn't exactly _feel_ it now, he could only feel the need to throw up, but he knew it was there. It made him feel a little better. A little _safer_. Knowing Remus and Harry would be safe. That _he_ could keep them safe. Even though he had failed James and Lily, he wouldn't fail Remus or Harry. Never.

Remus nodded. "I solemnly swear."

Sirius knew Remus had wanted to say, "but it's Dumbledore, you daft thing", but he hadn't. Because he was a good man. Thoughtful and kind. Instead of taking the piss at Sirius' sudden paranoia, he pandered to it. He had solemnly _sworn_. That was as serious as an unbreakable vow between his friends. Sirius could have _kissed_ him he was so relieved. But he didn't. Obviously.

"Thank you, Moony," he said, suddenly aware he was still holding his friends hand and dropped it quickly.

Remus gave him a watery, sort of depressed smile and nodded his head towards the door. Sirius took a deep breath and pushed the handle down and the door swung open. He let Remus to pass through before him, but Sirius couldn't move, his eyes were focused firmly on a scuff mark on the floor just beyond the kitchen door.

_You utter coward, _the voice that sounded like his mother said.

He felt sick. He was going to be sick. Oh, fuck.

"Good morning, Gentlemen."

Oh fucking Merlin. He was too scared to be sick now. Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant.

"Morning Professor," Remus replied, hovering awkwardly between Sirius who was still clinging to the door handle and Dumbledore, dressed in a midnight blue robe decorated with little golden stars. His pointed hat was sitting on the chair beside him. It was dark green. He must have been in a rush. He was usually much more colour co-ordinated.

Sirius looked at the cup of tea in Dumbledore's hands. At the beard tucked into his belt. At the long, crooked nose. At the half-moon spec-

Oh _Fuck_.

He'd looked at the old man's eyes. Instead of their usual bright twinkle they seemed to be burning like ice.

"Mr Black, good morning," he said, his grave address held nothing to the look in his eye.

Sirius nodded. "Professor."

Dumbledore motioned to the two empty chairs in front of him. They sat down silently. Sirius felt like a child again. Getting sent to the Headmaster when McGonagall was at her wits end. It was all too familiar. Dumbledore sitting opposite them, hands folded neatly with a cup of tea in front of him. Check. Remus fidgeting nervously at his side. Check. Sweaty palms. Check. James acting like he didn't give a toss, yet worrying himself sick about what his mother would say in her next letter. No. Not today. Never again, either. Oh. _James. _

Bloody hell, Prongs. Why'd you have to die on me?

They sat there. Silently. All three of them. For one minute and fifty-six seconds. Exactly. Sirius knew that because he had been watching the clock that hung on the wall behind Dumbledore's head. It was unbearable.

Finally, _finally_ Dumbledore spoke.

Sirius wished he hadn't.

"I was under the impression you were headed for Cyprus, Mr Black. Why the change in plans?"

Sirius winced. It was going to be one of _those_ interrogations. Ordinarily, this was his favoured method of questioning, acting calm and pleasant but aiming straight for the jugular. But it wasn't so great when he was on the receiving end.

Moody was going to murder him. The world's most paranoid wizard was going to murder him. And he would probably get away with it. Bloody. Fucking. Hell.

Breathe. Just breathe. Start from the beginning, Sirius told himself. And for the love of Merlin don't say anything stupid.

"I was going. I was. My bag was packed and I got leave from work and everything. But something felt...off." _Really, Black? Thats the best you could do?_

Sirius found himself incapable of forming anything that sounded remotely intelligent, which was unusual as he was the most proficient liar he knew, not to say that he was a _liar, _per se. Just that he had the knack for it. For words. For telling tales with a certain flair that had never failed to simultaneously irk and intrigue Professor McGonagall. Not that his old Head of House would ever admit that his antics at school had actually entertained her. Instead she had commented on multiple occasions that he had been the bane of her existence for seven long years.

"Something felt off? Well that explains everything then," Dumbledore remarked sarcastically. Sirius frowned. Sarcasm didn't suit the Headmaster. It felt all wrong. Like putting your shoes on the wrong feet. Like watching your baby brother fighting from the opposite side of a battle. Like James and Lily being dead. Actually, Dumbledore and sarcasm went together just about as well as Sirius and Snape did.

"No it doesn't, sir. It doesn't explain anything." It was Remus.

"No? Mr Lupin, it is my deepest regret to inform you that the Potter's were murdered last night. They were betrayed by their Secret Keeper."

Sirius bristled. Dumbledore had no right to speak to Remus like he was some idiot being played. Not by Sirius.

"Yes. I know," Remus replied sharply. He folded his arms across his chest. Oh, goody. Moony was on the _defensive_. This ought to be interesting.

"Then am I to assume you are working with Voldemort too? I hardly expected that from you, Remus, of all people," Dumbledore said calmly.

That was _it_.

"You leave him out of this. He had nothing to do with any of this shit! I'm the one that messed up! They're dead because of me!" Sirius shouted. He was standing. He didn't realise he had done so. He wondered when that happened.

"_Sirius._" Remus hissed.

Oops, he'd said something stupid.

_You're killing it tonight, Black._

"So you admit it? You were working for Voldemort?" Dumbledore pressed. He was now standing too, wand held in his hand.

Sirius could feel the magic crackling in the air. The tension was stifling.

"No, I don't admit it. I would rather die than work for Voldemort. I'm nothing like my family. _Nothing_."

"Mr Black, I am not to be trifled with. Did you betray the Potter's to Voldemort or not? Yes or no will suffice."

"NO. I wasn't the Secret Keeper! We swapped at the last minute, me and Wormtail. Peter Pettigrew. I thought I was too obvious a choice and I couldn't protect them if I was dead, could I? He was the perfect bluff. We organised it all exactly. Peter would perform the Fidelius and then I'd pretend to go into hiding so everyone would think I'd done it, then he would go into hiding a couple of days later. Then I'd go to Cyprus. Everything was sorted. It had all been done exactly according to plan. _They_ _were_ _safe_." Sirius collapsed back into his seat, his head in his hands. "They were supposed to be safe."

It was fool proof. Or rather, it would have been, had Sirius not been a fool.

And now James and Lily were _dead_. It didn't make any sense. James Potter couldn't just _die, _his ego was too big for that. And Lily was Lily. How could she be gone?

"Mr Lupin," Dumbledore said, turning towards Remus, "were you aware of this change?"

Sirius looked at Remus and their eyes met for the briefest of moments.

Sirius could see the hurt in them, because he had been left in the dark, because he hadn't been trusted. Because of Sirius. _I'm so sorry Moony. _

"No, but I believe him." Remus says quietly. Dumbledore quirked his eyebrow.

"Very well," Dumbledore said, seeming suitable convinced, readjusting his glasses on his crooked nose. "I must apologise for my behaviour. I'm sure you could imagine, I am most eager to sort this whole mess out before the masses start spreading wild rumours about the 'Boy Who Lived'. The Prophet have upped they game, I think. It's one of their better titles. Their wit has been lacking as of late."

What the hell?

Dumbledore placed a newspaper in front of Sirius. It was the Daily Prophet. It was today's. It was still warm under his touch. He could still smell the ink. He was tempted to wave it under Remus' nose because he knows he likes the smell. He refrained from doing so, just.

"Merlin," Remus whispered as he leaned over Sirius's shoulder to read with him. Sirius could feel his warm breath on the side of his neck. It was rather distracting. "Sirius, look!" Remus said.

Sirius looked down at the front page where Remus was pointing to and could not believe his eyes.

_You-Know-Who Defeated._

What? How was that _possible_?

Sirius read on, each sentence becoming more ridiculous than the last.

We won?

Bloody hell, this can't be real. It can't be over. Can it?

According to Brian MacFusty, Senior Editor of the Daily Prophet, it could. He wrote that You-Know-Who had cast the Killing curse on his godson and instead of killing Harry, he had died instead. It was absurd.

No one could survive the killing curse.

Every one _knew_ that. It was the first thing he was taught by his tutor. He remembered clearly the horrible old warlock, who was so ancient that he had taught Sirius' parents as children, that, 'if he was ever in the way of an _Avada Kedavra_, he would be dead and no better to his family than a filthy mudblood'. Charming chap. Sirius had been four at the time and even now, eighteen _years_ later, his skin crawled at the thought of that day. Of that moment. Not that that mattered now.

"How is this possible?" he asked.

Dumbledore smiled at him and for the first time in his entire life, it hit Sirius that the man is _old_. He looked tired and worn out. All pruney looking.

"My boy, if you live to be as old as I, you begin to believe anything is possible."

Remus snorted, but looked terribly embarrassed when saw Dumbledore gazing at him. "Sorry," he mumbled, picking at the frayed cuff of his shirt.

Dumbledore, unphased by the interruption, continued.

"I do believe that Voldemort was defeated last night by Harry. In fact, I know so. From what I could gather, Lily sacrificed her life to save her son's. That is far more powerful magic than anyone could ever produce from wand tip. Voldemort included. I suspect, that her willingness to give her life for her son protected him from any harm, and defeated Voldemort. It really is most astounding.

"It is also why I sent Hagrid to take Harry to his relatives home." Sirius frowned, "To keep him safe, he needs to be surrounded by his mother's blood to protect him."

"No."

It took Sirius a moment to realise he had not said it, but Remus.

"Mr Lupin, I understand the situation must be most distressing, but it is for the best. For everyone."

"Everyone?" Remus asked. "What about Harry? Does his happiness not matter?"

"He will be in the care of his aunt and uncle and a cousin I believe to be only a few months older than he. I'm sure he will be perfectly happy." Dumbledore explained in a voice that Sirius imagined he used to soothe homesick first years.

Sirius was infuriated.

"Petunia is the most sorry excuse of a woman I have ever met, bar my family. She _hated_ Lily and thinks magic is evil. If you think for one moment I'm going to relinquish custody of my godson so you can dump him on someone like that, then...then..." He had no idea what. But it would be bad. Really, truly bad.

"I know this must be hard for you, both of you. But you need to think of Harry. How do you think he will cope growing up in a world where everyone knows about what happened to his family, where every child in our world knows his name. He will be the most famous wizard of this age. Surely you can see that. I think it is better for him to be raised away from all of that. I am only trying to protect him. Please, Sirius, see reason."

Could Dumbledore be right? Would Harry be better off with that miserable excuse of a muggle? That was like asking would Sirius' mother welcome him with open arms if he turned up on her doorstep? Only if she had a knife handy and there were no witnesses.

With mental image in his head, Sirius saw reason. Just not Dumbledore's.

He would raise Harry. He loved the little boy too much to not do so.

Sirius' attention was brought back to the real world by Remus' hand on his shoulder. He knew what Remus was wanting to tell him but too reserved to say out loud.

He wanted Dumbledore to leave.

He wanted to hold Harry.

He wanted to _sleep_. And so did Sirius.

Sirius squeezed his hand. He looked to Dumbledore.

"I would appreciate it if you left now. You got what you wanted. Peter's the one you want. Though you should know he was an animagus. A rat to be exact. That should help you on your search."

"An animagus? It would indeed," Dumbledore agreed as walked out of the kitchen. He looked genuinely surprised.

Sirius doubted many things as important as _that_ danced so outrageously under the old man's nose without him knowing about it.

It really was a great achievement. They ought to celebrate. Really, they should. Him and Remus and ... and Remus. There was no one else left. James was gone and so was Peter. Sirius didn't think he was ever going to get used to that.

Merlin he needed a drink. Or sleep. Maybe just the sleep would have to do - he didn't think Mrs Lupin would approve of hitting the grog at six in the morning. He needed Dumbledore gone.

Apparently Dumbledore saw that too. Placing his green hat on top of his head and announced, "This discussion is not over." Sirius was inclined to disagree but said nothing. "However, I see that it is in everyone's best interest to keep Harry with you for the time being. I will be in touch very soon. Goodbye, gentlemen. Please say thank you to Mrs Lupin for the tea. It was lovely," and with a crack he disapparated.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

_What the hell just happened?_

Sirius was comforted to know Remus looked just as confused as he. They stayed motionless for what seemed an age. Remus opened his mouth several times but said nothing. Sirius had no idea how to open his mouth. He didn't even know if he was actually _breathing_. What now?

The sound of a wailing baby filled the kitchen.

Oh _Harry_.

Remus left the room silently and came back a few minutes later, Harry cradled in his skinny arms. He was still crying hard but as Remus began to rock him, cooing to him gently, he began to settle.

The poor kid. Did he have any idea what had happened? Did he know his mum and dad were gone?

There were fat tears rolling down Harry's cheeks. Remus wiped away the tears gently with his thumb. An incredible surge of affection towards both the child and the man hit Sirius. Like the night bus had just run him over. He knew he would never give up on them. They were all he had left in this world. They were his family now.

Remus looked at him and gave him an exhausted and altogether miserable smile, but Sirius knew things, as messed up as they were now, would be all right. Eventually.

Because James and Lily were dead and Remus was still brave enough to try to _smile_. And even though Sirius just wanted to die at that very moment, to go with Prongs and Lily because he was so scared to be left behind, he smiled back. Because he owed it to the Potter's to raise their little boy. Because he had to spend the rest of his life making it up to Remus. Because he was needed.

Sirius walked over to Remus and the baby and held them both in his arms.

They would be okay. Him and Remus. And Harry.

The Boy Who Lived.

Merlin. Did they sell card's for that?

* * *

Hello, i hope that if you've gotten this far in this chapter then I haven't dissapointed too badly. I'm really unhappy with the conversation between Sirius, Remus and Dumbledore. If anyone had any constructive criticism I would be more than willing to take it on. Hoping that you'll stick with me as I go along writing this. And please if you've any thoughts, even just say to that you've enjoyed any aspect of this story, your comment would be greatly appreciated. xox.


	7. Brother, Hail and Farewell

Hello, this chapter is a little bit longer than my others. I couldn't find a place to cut it without breaking the flow of the story. Any feedback or comments would be lovely. hope you enjoy. BlackReaver, xox

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**Brother, hail and farewell.**

The following week passed in a sickening blur. Merely two hours after Dumbledore left Alastor Moody had arrived to take Sirius in for questioning. It had taken him _twenty-seven_ hours to convince Moody that he was telling the truth, of which five were spent explaining how he had come to be an _illegal_ animagus. That had been rather tedious, apparently it was just _that hard_ to believe three fifth year boys could actually manage it.

Sirius honestly didn't know why.

After all, they had managed to map more of Hogwarts than the original architects of the school had. And they had also managed to receive more detentions than any other students had in its thousand or so year history.

Though that may have been because the punishments became slightly more lax when Dumbledore became Headmaster. Sirius couldn't _really_ imagine breaking the rules so often or with such reckless abandon if the punishment for transfiguring Snivellus' school robes (into an outfit he had seen one mother wear on September 1st at the train station; a stuffed vulture hat, stiff green robes and pink high-heeled shoes) had involved being hung upside-down in the dungeons by his toes.

Merely having to clean the bedpans of the hospital wing for an entire month was just dandy after seeing Snape in _drag_.

Ah, those were the good old days.

When everyone was _not_ dead.

When Pete wasn't actually a rat.

Moody had not been impressed when he shared this with him.

Fair enough.

Sirius didn't think Moody had ever laughed in his entire laugh. He decided it might be better to wait to share his reminiscing about Hogwarts with Frank Longbottom. That bloke would get a kick out of it. Frank was only a couple of years older than Sirius and they got along rather well. Alice, his wife and fellow Auror, was ace too, but she was yet to return to work after having her baby, Neville.

He wondered whether the Longbottom's would be celebrating or mourning. They were in the Order too. They had been really great friend's to the Potter's. They had feared for the life of their child as James and Lily had done for theirs.

Their fear had united them.

Parents. Fighting for the freedom and life of their child.

All Sirius' mother had ever fought for was to make him a pureblooded monster. He wondered if she had ever loved him. Probably not. Lily would never scream and rage and hex if Harry accidentally tripped up the stairs and dirtied his clothes. Or had a nightmare.

No, she certainly wouldn't.

Not even if she wanted to.

She was dead.

Sirius kept forgetting that.

Forgetting that he would never get to laugh at James when he had baby vomit or piss running down the front of his shirt. That was going to be his shirt from now on. Harry was his responsibility.

He wanted to go back to the Lupin's. He was worried about how Remus was coping with an exceedingly clingy Harry, with a still distraught mother and with arranging the funeral. It made him nervous.

Eventually Moody let him go.

After being informed that was suspended for a month for being an unregistered animagus, Sirius was unceremoniously thrown out into the Auror department to be met with the nosy faces of his co-workers. It was rather humiliating. Especially when Dawlish started to bark at him. Stupid wanker. Had he not known Moody would be watching he would have turned into Padfoot and given Dawlish a proper bark. With teeth. And some biting. Possibly blood. Merlin knows he had wanted to see that arrogant bastard _bleed_.

He left quickly.

By the time Sirius had returned to the Lupin's, he had fallen into an undeniably miserable funk. He had been up for thirty-nine hours straight and was about to lose it completely. To remedy this, he locked himself in the bloodied basement and sobbed like a child for a good hour.

He had never felt so alone and lost.

So overwhelmed by grief and terrified of the numbness that had settled in his chest as he recounted his discovery of James and Lily's bodies. It made him think of the Dementors he had seen only once, on a visit to Azkaban. They had sucked out all of the happiness in the air and left Sirius feeling numb and tormented at the same time. It had been awful.

Mrs Lupin had found him and helped him calm down. She had held him tightly and told him that it wouldn't just get better, but he would learn to cope. He would find reasons to _feel_ again.

She left him briefly to get a scrapbook from her bedroom. When she returned she sat down next to him and opened to book. It was filled with pictures of a young and lovely Mrs Lupin, her proud looking husband and a little girl with Mr Lupin's eyes and Moony's smile. She had blonde hair, bouncy and curly and not at all like Remus'. Sirius looked to Mrs Lupin and watched as she gazed down lovingly at the little girl in the muggle photographs. _Her_ little girl.

"I miss her everyday, Sirius," she began quietly, "and I will never forget about her. She was only five when she passed. I had only just found out I was carrying another child."

"Moony?"

Mrs Lupin chuckled, "Yes. I was carrying _Moony_. Evangeline was so excited that she was going to be a big sister. She talked about the baby incessantly, if it was a girl she wanted it to be named Artemis and if it was a boy, Remus. John had been reading her his Mythology books, you see. But she had developed a cough and it didn't get any better. She got very sick very quickly. She died when I was four months along with Remus."

"I'm sorry," Sirius told her, still mesmerised by the little girl who had never met her little brother, though he shared her smile. He was struck by the fact that she had named her brother, yet not been privileged enough to meet him. How unfair that Remus had been denied such a companion in his lonely childhood.

"I didn't tell you to that you feel bad for me, I told you to let you know you are _not_ alone."

Sirius had no idea how much he needed to hear that until he _actually_ did. That seemed to happen to him a lot.

"Thank you."

"You're most welcome. Now why don't you go upstairs and have a rest, Remus and Harry are out in the garden," Mrs Lupin said to him, helping him up and guiding him out of the room. He was grateful for her kindness towards him still, despite everything. She really was awesome.

Sirius had laid down on Remus' bed and been surprised to note the gentle tone of Remus' voice wafting through the open window, as he read a muggle novel to Harry.

Sirius also noted, that it was _The Hobbit_, one of Sirius' favourite books. His uncle Alphard had given it to him the Christmas of his first year at Hogwarts. He hadn't really cared about it until he got back to school and mentioned he got a book to Remus, knowing enough about his mysterious new friend to know he was a bit bookish. Remus had light up and started to jabber on excitedly about his favourite parts of the book and Sirius had to stop him after several minutes to admit he hadn't read it yet.

Remus' face had fallen and he had muttered an embarrassed, "Oh. Sorry. I-I got a bit carried away." It made Sirius feel kind of bad so he resolved to read it so Remus could talk about it again.

What were friends for?

As it turned out, he became rather obsessed with it and read the entire thing inside a week and nearly had kitten's when Remus told him there was more books after it. He had also forced James to read them too, so naturally Peter did as well, and they had spent many a night in their school years performing sections of the _The Hobbit_ and _The Lord of the Rings_ in the dormitory, in the common room and that one memorable time in the Great Hall to celebrate Snape's seventeenth birthday (he had been cast as Gollum by James).

Good choice, Moony.

He approved. Harry would grow up and know all about hobbits and friendship and the dragon Smaug. Harry would learn to love the magic the muggles had created for themselves. Those muggles knew more than most wizards gave them credit for. They really did.

For at least and hour Sirius listened to Remus read to his godson. However, Sirius was unaware that Harry had fallen asleep in the crook of Remus arm long before Remus stopped reading, as was he unaware that Remus had been sitting directly beneath the window sill, hidden by the planter box, so that Sirius could hear him clearly.

Sirius also had no idea Remus had picked _that_ book for a reason.

Picked it _for_ Sirius.

All of these things evaded him as he drifted off into a short but mercifully dreamless sleep.

Then came the Potter's funeral.

It was one of the hardest days of Sirius' life. Certainly the saddest. The shock and disbelief had vanished overnight and were replaced by unimaginable sadness. Grief. Sirius had scarce got a minutes sleep since Halloween, excepting the few hours in which Remus read to him (unbeknownst to Sirius of course). Wracked with guilt and nightmares, it was easier to stay awake. To watch Harry sleep, watch as his tiny chest rose and fell with every breath. He had spent most of his nights that way, usually accompanied by Remus, sometimes a chess set and some strong whiskey, sometimes Mrs Lupin, too.

It seemed all to surreal to stand only a few metre's away from James and Lily, ethereal looking and dead in their coffins.

He and Remus had been placed right at the front, standing right next to the Minister of Magic.

The pompous idiot.

Sirius could see how uncomfortable the man had been standing so close to Remus, dressed in borrowed robes of Sirius' that were slightly too big for his emaciated form, Harry asleep in his arms. The bastard acted as though Remus was nothing more than an abomination and Sirius knew Remus saw it. He had cringed when Remus had held out his hand when he greeted the Minister and Sirius watched as the man had wiped his hand on his attendant's robes after he shook Remus' proffered one. It make Sirius so angry. That the Minister of Magic was as prejudiced a moron as his family had been. That anyone would treat _Remus_ like that.

But that wasn't was hurt the most.

The worst part was looking on as Remus fussed over Harry. He was dressed in a pale blue baby suit and jumper (Remus had blatantly refused when Sirius had suggested they buy him proper black robes for the occasion, he had said, "it isn't right for a child so young to mourn, Padfoot.") and wrapped up snuggly in a god-awful woollen blanket that Lily had painstakingly knitted herself. It was cream, with dropped stitches and lose threads and small holes all over the bloody thing. It had been the butt of many of James and Sirius' jokes, but it hadn't deterred the stubborn girl. Though when she finally finished it, even after several _lengthy_ consultations with Mrs Lupin, she had laughed, admitted it was a total disaster and had tossed it aside. So naturally, it was one of the only personal possessions that survived that fateful Halloween night.

Sirius was so tempted to chuck the thing out when he pulled it out of the _single_ cardboard box of salvaged items from the Potter's home because it reminded him of the fact that he was a total bastard.

But _Lily_ had made it.

Lily had awkwardly looped the wool around the knitting needles, listening intently as Remus read a little too patiently from a do-it-yourself knitting book (he had literally drawn the short straw) and poked herself in the eye on multiple occasions and chased her hideous boot-faced cat around the lounge room to get the by-now knobbly wool back at least twice a day _until_ she had made something for her precious baby.

For Harry.

It was one of only a handful of possessions he could ever have in connection to his mother, so even though everything about burying the Potter's felt wrong, Sirius felt it was _right_ that Harry should be in Remus' arms, being kept warm by the blanket his mummy made for _him_.

The aged wizard conducting the funeral spoke for a long while. A long, long while. Sirius had no idea what he was saying.

He didn't care.

In less than an hour he would never see James or Lily in the flesh ever again. They were going to be _buried_.

It was...weird.

So ridiculously surreal, almost like the time he and James had snuck out of the Potter's home during the summer before their seventh year and managed to obtain some sort of muggle drug, he couldn't exactly remember, and Sirius had sworn he had seen a rabbit in a tutu riding a thestral in the Potter's back garden.

But this was weirder, because this was _real_.

They were really _gone_ and it was _snowing_.

It looked beautiful.

Sirius heard his own name spoken.

It was time for him to speak the eulogy. Dumbledore had offered to do so, but that didn't sit right with Sirius. He knew them best. He'd called James his _brother_. They were his family. He _had_ to do it.

He looked to his left, where the Minister stood, looking serious and bored at the same time. Sirius was sure he had been to too many of these to count. Then he glanced over his shoulder, to see a sea of black dress robes, pointed witches hats and teary faces. Then lastly, he looked to his right. To Remus and Harry. Harry was asleep still, and Sirius was glad, the little tyke had been struggling to settle at nights and as a result was a very grumbly little fellow during the day. Even Padfoot hadn't cheered him up this morning (not that it had made Sirius change back any sooner, it was easy to escape into the dog, hide from reality for a while). Remus had been virtually mute the entire morning.

Sirius understood. Stoicism and Remus went together like English and tea. Remus was trying to be the strong one. For his mother. For the baby in his arms. For Sirius. Even and perhaps most especially, for himself. But it made Sirius nervous. Remus had refused to talk about anything remotely personal the past few days. Their conversations had revolved around Harry, whose turn it was to change Harry and if Sirius would like some more tea. He knew Remus trusted him. He did. But sometimes it felt like he didn't. It hurt. Sometimes.

Remus looked at him seriously and mouthed a "Good luck."

Sirius nodded and before he had anytime to stop himself, leaned in towards Remus and kissed him on the cheek. Sirius was so horrified at himself he didn't notice the pink tinge of Remus' cheeks.

_Bloody hell Black! What did you do that for? It's _Moony_, not some stupid bird. Honestly. _

"Thanks mate," he muttered before walking out in front of what seemed to be the entire wizarding population of Britain and told them about the first time he had ever been on the receiving end of one of Lily Potter's hexes. That earned a chorus of slightly subdued laughter and genuine smile from Remus. The first he had seen in well over four months. The rest of his speech was bearable, knowing that the broken friendship between he and Remus could be healed, that maybe they had a chance at looking after the kid that had been thrown upon them. Not that Sirius didn't want Harry.

He did. He loved that little boy like his own child.

But he had expected to be the cool uncle, not the parent.

That was Lily and James.

Always them.

But they were gone now. They had left the mortal world having never even heard their son call them mum or dad. Harry was not talking yet. He was a late bloomer, according to Mrs Lupin. It would be Sirius who would teach Harry how to talk, how to walk, how to tie his shoe laces. He would be the one who would take Harry to his first Quidditch match, he would be the one who would beam proudly as his godson opened his Hogwarts letter. When Harry had a nightmare or scraped his knee, it would be his responsibility. It terrified him.

But then as he was walking back from the podium, after having farewelled his brother and the most incredible witch he had ever known, he realised that Remus was still standing there, holding his godson. He wasn't alone. No matter what, _Remus_ was as utterly devoted to Harry as Sirius was. And maybe to their friendship too.

Sirius hardly noticed as the crowd waited expectantly for Sirius to place the first flower over the newest gravestones. Instead he focused on how Remus gently roused a dozy Harry and placed in his tiny hand a flower. A lily. Bright green eyes danced as they watched snow falling from the sky and on to the flower in his hand. Remus had looked up at Sirius and nodded.

They had discussed this.

Remus wordlessly handed Harry over to Sirius and watched on as Sirius took his godson over to his parents and helped Harry to place the single flower in front of the graves. Kneeling in the snow, Sirius was vaguely aware of the photograph flashes and the sniffling behind him, but he didn't really care. He wanted to pay his respects and leave. To go mourn properly in peace.

"Wave bye-bye, Harry," Sirius murmured into his godson's ear.

Harry's little mittened hand rose up and waved a little at the gleaming white stone. Harry looked up at Sirius expectantly, as if he was waiting for praise for his heartbreaking little wave.

"Well done, Harry. You're such a good boy."

It came from Remus, who planted a kiss on top of the baby's head, laid his own flower in front of the grave and walked off deeper into the graveyard. Sirius resisted the urge to follow. He knew Remus needed time to process things alone. That he would be back long before Sirius would be allowed to escape. Moving away from the graves to allow other mourners to pay their respects, Sirius was approached by a multitude of mourners. Old school friends. Quite a few birds who had somehow convinced themselves they were in love with him when they were at school. People from the Ministry. People from the Order. The Longbottom's; Alice and Frank and Neville and Augusta.

Merlin! She was wearing vulture stuffed hat. Thank Merlin he hadn't told Frank about that prank. If Sirius knew one thing, it was that Frank loved his mum. Even though she wore a dead vulture on top of her head. Merlin. That was _something_. It had teeth! Did vultures even have teeth?

Behind the _vulture_ hat Sirius spied Mrs Lupin talking with Molly Prewett. No, she had married, ages ago, she was Molly Weasley now. She was some sort of distant cousin, six times removed or something. Attached to Molly were two boys, no older than three years old, both with flaming red hair and mischievous smirks. They reminded him of Fabian and Gideon.

Molly's brothers. They had been Order members. They were dead.

It struck Sirius how high the mortality rate of the Order actually was. He hadn't noticed before now. Idiot. They had lost _so_ _many_ people. Good people. Friends. _Family_.

Were their deaths justified now that they had won?

Did it matter?

Remus turned up at his side at that moment, and Sirius was glad of the distraction.

"You did really well up there Sirius. I don't think there was a dry eye in the crowd. They would have been proud," Remus said to him, gently nudging him in the ribs.

"Yeah, well." Sirius shrugged, embarrassed.

"I think we ought to go find mum, take her home and head back to yours, yeah?"

It sounded like a really brilliant idea.

Really truly brilliant. Especially since Sirius had Firewhiskey back at his flat.

"Only if you stay the night."

Remus smirked. "I think I can manage that."

Sirius couldn't help but laugh.


	8. Enough for Now

**We Were Young**

After being practically molested by Molly Weasley, who Sirius discovered had _seven_ children, they fled from the cemetery and took Mrs Lupin back to her home to make sure she was okay and not in want of anything. Sirius thought Remus was a little worried about her safety. She was in a very vulnerable position. Being a muggle so close to the heart of a wizarding war was not good. Especially since she lived _alone_.

As soon as they arrived Sirius made sure the protective wards Remus had placed around the house were still good.

They _were_.

They were really good.

Mrs Lupin would be safe. Thank Merlin.

He hadn't expected any less from Remus. It was funny, though, to see how ruthlessly Remus had protected the cottage. He felt sorry for any idiot who tried to breach his wards. He felt a _bit_ silly. Remus was more than capable of protecting his mum. He didn't need anyone inspecting his work.

But Sirius had needed to know for his own piece of mind. He was very fond of the woman. And Remus loved her. His _mother_. He couldn't bare the thought of Remus losing the last of his family. Not like Harry.

He went back inside, hands shoved roughly into his pockets. He was itching for a fag. Had been all day. But he _hated_ the disappointed looks he got from Mrs Lupin when he had one, so he refrained.

He was a good boy. Occasionally.

When he reached the kitchen he found Mrs Lupin holding Harry, giving him a bottle. He looked very happy to be doing so. Mrs Lupin had a look of such gentle love on her face as she watched the baby in her arms. He decided to leave them be. So he took to wandering around the house as he waited for Remus to pack up his things.

Remus _did_ have his own flat to go back to after all. Decrepit as it was. Sirius kept forgetting about that. That neither of them actually lived at the Lupin's cottage. Remus had moved out to protect his mother as the war had worsened. Sirius knew that Mrs Lupin gave Remus money to pay for his expenses for living on his own as he had worked full-time for the Order and because he was virtually unemployable anyway, both in the wizarding and muggle world. He also knew that the amount Mrs Lupin could afford to scrape together barely covered the rent and only a meagre amount left over for food and the bare necessities. Possibly not even that most weeks. Not that Remus would have told that to his mum. He would rather have starved to death than let her feel as though she couldn't provide for him. It was quite ironic, if you thought about it. Really. Sirius had half a mind to tell Mrs Lupin himself, but he couldn't do that.

Not to either of them.

It would be like shouting at Mrs Lupin that she was a failure and simultaneously slapping Remus in the face.

He loved them both too much to hurt either one like that.

Then again, Remus could very well have died had James and Lily not got there first. He was still painfully thin, and still hadn't completely recovered from the full moon over a week ago. It had been that bad. Remus couldn't have held out much longer. Maybe Moony could move back here, back with his mum. Now that he wasn't a danger to her. Or he could even...no...never mind.

Stupid idea.

He continued to wander.

Eventually he made it up to Remus' room. Leaning against the doorframe, unnoticed by the single soul in the room, Sirius watched.

He watched as Remus packed his rucksack, he could see the yellowed pages of _The Hobbit_ sticking out of the top. As he kicked off his old school shoes. Then as Remus discarded his cloak. And Sirius' coat. And his tie. It wasn't until Remus began to _undo_ the buttons of Sirius'shirt that he came to his senses and realised he was acting nothing short of a pervert.

_What the hell are you doing Black?_

Sirius didn't know. Only that he shouldn't be doing it. Because it was _Remus_.

He coughed rather too loudly.

Remus looked up at him, fingers frozen over a button. He smiled slightly.

"Hey Padfoot." The fingers unfroze and the unbuttoning continued. Sirius tried not to notice the pale and scarred flesh it revealed. He didn't want to invade Remus' so highly sought after privacy. If only Remus would put out a little. HELP OUT. He meant _help_. If only Remus would _help_ out a little.

Merlin, he needed sleep, a fag and a whole lot of alcohol. Not necessarily in that order.

"Hey yourself. You nearly done?" _Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say-_

"Nearly." _Whats up?_

_ "_Good. That's, uh, that's good." _Nothing. It's nothing. _

Remus nodded. So did Sirius. It was _awkward_.

"Well, I'll, uh, just go wait downstairs, yeah?" Sirius said, carding his hand through his hair. He hoped Remus didn't recognise that as a nervous twitch. Because it was.

Remus gave him that funny look that made his stomach squirm. "Okay."

Sirius turned on his heel and headed down the stairs, past the kitchen, the living room, along the hallway and out the front door.

He _really_ needed a fag.

He sat out on the Lupin's front steps in the cold miserable weather and smoked. Lily would kill him if she knew. She had been badgering him to quit for years. She had almost had him convinced by the last time he saw her alive. But then she had told him, as she hugged him goodbye, "You'd better have stopped _that_ by the time this whole thing blows over or I'm revoking your Godfather privileges and giving them to Remus."

He had promised her he would. He lied. He had gone home and smoked a whole pack. He had never done that before. He had been pissed. That Lily had said that. Acted like Remus wasn't the spy.

Lily had never been convinced it was Remus. Never. Bloody woman's intuition. Or maybe she just had common sense. And Sirius was an idiot.

Fuck.

Why on earth did James and Lily name _him_ Godfather?

He _was_ an absolute failure. A total fuck up. Everyone _knew_ that. He had proved it on so many occasions.

The door behind him opened. He _felt_ Remus as he sat down beside him. Sirius didn't look at him. If he had Sirius knew he would have confessed _everything_ to Remus. Because it was eating at him. His guilt. His stupidity. The fact that Sirius had decided to go to Cyprus because Remus had wanted to go there.

"You know you should stop smoking, Sirius. It's-"

"Bad for the baby. I _know_. I don't do it around him." Sirius was really sick of people telling him that. He _knew_.

"Actually, I was going to say it's bad for _you_."

"Oh." Now Sirius just felt like a total tosser. "Sorry."

Remus chuckled, "S'alright. I'm done so once you wrestle Harry off Mum we can go." Remus poked him in the side.

"Why me?"

"She can't hit you, you're not her kid," Remus told him as though it was perfectly obvious. Well, it did make sense. Kind of.

"And we can't have that can we?" Sirius said as he stood up.

He looked down at Remus still seated on the step. He had on a navy blue jumper that was only slightly too big over a white collared shirt, light brown corduroy pants and black converse sneakers.

He looked nice. _And_ _comfortable_.

Remus looked nice and comfortable. Compared to Sirius, that was, still dressed in his best robes. The stiff collar scratching at his neck. It was driving him insane. Absolutely batty.

Sirius helped Remus up off the step, gone back inside and after a few gentle words and the promise of many, many more visits from Harry, he managed to get his godson out of Mrs Lupin's arms. He realised then that Moony hadn't been joking when he had said Mrs Lupin would have hit him if he had been the one to retrieve Harry.

Sirius waited by the fireplace as Remus said goodbye to his mum.

"I'll come around sometime this week, I promise."

"Make sure you do, young man."

"I'll bring Harry too, maybe."

"I would love that." Mrs Lupin hugged her son so tightly Sirius wouldn't have been surprised if it left bruises. Once she let go Remus staggered a little bit, all flustered. Poor Moony. Killed by kindness.

Teary brown eyes looked to Sirius, "I expect you too, Sirius. I've seen too little of you lately."

"Of course," He said, then to Harry he whispered, "Wave to Mrs Lupin, Harry."

Harry waved excitedly at the lovely woman who had fed him so frequently the past week and babbled some sort of good-bye to her.

"Goodbye dear," She said as Sirius stepped into the fireplace and flooed to his flat.

Stepping into his own living room he was glad to note it was clean. Not _clean_ clean, but good enough to be not messy clean. Harry started to squirm in his arms. He knew Sirius' flat. He wanted to play. Sirius set him down on the rug and watched as he crawled about, happily re-exploring the flat.

Then Remus flooed in.

He still looked a little flustered.

"You alright, Moony?" Sirius asked, smirking.

Remus practically collapsed into the armchair and with his head in his hands muttered, "My mother is insane."

"No, _my_ mother is insane. Yours is just being a mum."

Remus mumbled something too low for Sirius to hear. He looked uncomfortable. She must have said something after Sirius and Harry had left.

"Hmm?"

"Yeah, well, she drives me insane, then," Remus amended, flicking his wand at the fireplace and lighting it. It roared into life, casting a pleasant golden hue on the room. Harry squealed with excitement as he saw the flames flicker and crawled closer to the fire.

Not so fast, mate.

Remus quickly scooped him up onto his lap and distracted Harry with a stuffed dragon he swiped from the toy box beside his seat. Sirius couldn't tell who was having more fun. Harry, watching as the dragon came to life before his eyes, or Remus, who was making it do so. It was probably Remus.

"I'm going to change," Sirius told Remus, who was so engrossed with entertaining Harry, he just nodded and continued to play.

It was funny how everyone thought Remus was the _mature_ one.

Maybe it was just because he and James had been so immature, and Peter so pathetic, that he did seem like the mature one on the four of them. That and he was a Prefect, so people just expected him to be.

Maybe he was.

Once in his bedroom Sirius quickly took his robes off, glad to be free of all the fancy fabric and magical residue on them. Most wizarding folk were totally unaware of the magic that got stuck to their clothes, lingering in them. But Sirius wasn't. He liked to think it was from his heightened sense of smell, being a dog and all, but he knew it wasn't. Not in the slightest.

It was from being a Black. From being named after a star. From being able to map out his entire family tree right back to the Middle Ages exactly. From his poisoned blood.

Sighing, he picked up a pair of jeans off the floor. They would do. There were only a few mud stains on them. He rummaged around the closet for a shirt to wear. He found a tee-shirt and chucked it on. Once he put on a pair of red snitch socks he was done.

Until he walked past the mirror.

"You'd better you hope you don't get any company tonight, young man," it warned him.

Hey. That was uncalled for. It was his place and he could bum around in it however he pleased, thank you very much. But then he thought of the company he already had. Remus wasn't dressed like a bum. _Remus_ looked nice.

Groaning, Sirius dragged his hands over his face. Bugger. The bloody _mirror_ was right. He trudged back over to his closet and found a clean pair of trousers and one of his good black shirts. He took off his top and jeans and chucked them back on the floor and changed _again_. He even bothered to put on shoes, his purple converse high-tops. James had lent them to him. Sirius couldn't remember why exactly, but he wore them all the same. He couldn't exactly give them back.

He had to admit this was much nicer.

So did the mirror. It whistled as he walked past it the second time.

Now that was a _much_ better reaction.

He walked back into the living room and found that Remus and Harry had moved further along the room and into the kitchen. Harry was busy stuffing the dragon into his mouth as he sat on Remus's hip. Remus on the other hand had gotten out a couple of beers.

"Cheers, mate," Sirius said as Remus handed him a bottle.

"Welcome. What took you so long? Harry and I thought you must have gotten attacked by your sock draw. Again. Didn't we Harry," Remus said as he tickled Harry's side. Harry giggled and nodded enthusiastically.

"Oi, that only happened once and it wasn't my fault," Sirius pouted.

Remus quirked a sardonic brow. "Do we believe him Harry?"

Harry babbled something. Apparently he agreed with Remus. Or so Remus liked to believe.

"See Sirius, Harry doesn't believe you either," Remus told him, a gleeful look in his eye as he smoothed Harry's ruffled up hair. It sprang back just as wildly. Just like James' hair. He'd hung Sirius out to dry on more then a few occasions too. Must run in the family. Bloody Potter's.

"Whatever. And NO. I was not attacked by my sock draw. I was insulted by my mirror."

"That might be even worse, Padfoot," Remus laughed. Harry followed suit. The little traitor. He was meant to side with Sirius. "What did it say?"

Sirius mumbled a reply.

"Sorry," Remus snorted, "What did you say? I couldn't hear you."

"I said, it said, 'that I had better hope I wasn't expecting any company if I looked like that'."

"And you actually changed? Merlin Padfoot, it's just _me_. I have lived with you, you know. I don't care what you look like."

Sirius felt like an idiot. It _was_ just Moony. Just _Remus_. Harry threw the dragon at his face. Thanks, mate. You're rock solid.

"I know, but you looked nice and I thought I should too, you know. Cause of James and Lily."

Harry looked up at him as he said his parent's names. Was that just a coincidence, or did Harry know? Sirius wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer to his own question. It hurt too much either way. Harry would either never remember his parents or suffer from their loss.

"You thought I looked _nice_?" Remus said.

"Really nice. Kind of. I mean...look, does it matter? Can't we just have a good night? Get properly drunk. Forget about everything for a little while. Please."

Remus gave him a gentle smile, and swapping Harry to the other side of his hip said, "Of course. I'm sorry. It was just...look, it doesn't matter. But we might have to save the getting properly drunk for a night when someone else is minding Harry."

Damn it. He forgot about that.

Harry started to wriggle and looked to be trying to reach the dropped dragon. Picking the stuffed toy off of the floor and handing it back to his godson, Sirius told his friend, "I think you might be right there, Mr Moony."

They spent the rest of the night playing with Harry, drinking responsibly so they were only very slightly inebriated, trying to make him feel as at home as possible, because as not-homey as Sirius' flat was, it _was_ Harry's home now.

Then it came time to put Harry to bed. Mrs Lupin had given Sirius an old cot of Remus' as Harry's one had been destroyed. And although Sirius was sure that there was nothing wrong with the cot, Harry screamed like a bloody banshee as soon as he placed him in it. Sirius knew why. He didn't want to be put down. He didn't want to be _alone_.

Harry had been very clingy and rather docile ever since Halloween. Even tonight, when he had played on the floor, he had stayed within an arms reach of either Remus or Sirius. He had cried when Remus had gotten up to go to the loo.

Sirius couldn't blame him. It would be scary. Being without his mum and dad. Especially when they had always been there. Always. Every memory Harry possessed included James and Lily.

Sirius had hastily taken Harry out of the cot and instead had held Harry in his arms until he fell asleep. By the time Sirius was game enough to put him down, he felt as though his arms were about to drop off.

Pulling the blanket up over Harry's tummy, Sirius had leant down and kissed his godson on the top of his head and whispered,

"Night, mate," but the silence felt too heavy to leave it at that, "I..I love you, y'know. I really do." _Getting all emotional, are we? _That horrible voice that sounded like his mother snarked.

Bugger off, he told the voice.

It did. Sirius was glad. It could be incredibly irritating.

He gently pulled his bedroom door closed and tiptoed back to the living room. Remus was curled up on the sofa. He was frowning. That was no good.

"Oi Moony, why the long face?"

Remus looked up at him, all sharp angles and pale skin, with red watery eyes. Oh, fuck. He'd said something wrong. He'd broken Moony.

"Sirius I don't think I can do this."

Sirius sat down beside him.

"Can't do what?" He asked softly. Painfully aware he was treading on brittle eggshells. And that he was certainly not light on his feet.

"Pretend like everything's alright. I can do it for Harry and I can do it for my mother, but I can't to it with you as well," he said quietly. "This past week damn near killed me."

That hurt.

That really _hurt_.

"What do you want me to say, Remus? That we're fucked? That I honesty thought that you were a _spy_? Because I did. I-I hated you," Remus flinched, and Sirius hated himself, but he couldn't stop. "I spent _months_ trying to figure out who it was, and I defended you whenever _anyone_ suggested it was you just because you were the werewolf. Because I _knew_ you weren't like that.

"But then you started to disappear. All the fucking time, and when you came back you _wouldn't_ tell anyone where you had been. And I started to get suspicious. You have no idea how well Peter framed you. I'm sorry, alright. More sorry than you could possibly imagine. But you didn't make it easy to defend you. You made it bloody impossible. And I was so angry and-and scared for you. I had nightmares. Every night. I was so scared I would end up killing you out there and not know. And I missed you. I hated you but I _missed_ you more."

Remus was shaking.

Sirius realised he was too. He didn't want to say anything more. But he was _so_ close. There was something else he had to get off his chest.

_Before_ he chickened out.

"You know why I was headed to Cyprus? Because the Remus I knew had always wanted to go there. I wanted to go for you. For the boy I grew up with. I-I wanted...you...I...don't even...I wanted to...Fuck Remus." _Well done, Black. You buggered that heartfelt confession. Aces._ "_You've_ damn near killed _me_."

He had too, Sirius realised.

"Dumbledore made me promise not to tell anyone," Remus said after a long and tense silence. He didn't look at Sirius. Sirius didn't blame him. He didn't. Not one bit. He just might not have conveyed that to Remus though.

"Why?" Sirius had to _know_.

"Because he knew _you all_ would have started acting like an idiot and kicked up a fuss and ruined it!"

"Ruined what? Or won't you tell me. Even after all of this, you won't tell me, will you. Typical Remus, always so bloody secretive," Sirius spat. Only Remus could manage infuriate him so.

"I was with Fenrir Greyback's pack, you bloody tosser," Remus shouted back. He stood up and began to pace around the room.

One. Two. Three. Turn.

One. Two. Three. Turn.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

It took a while for his words to sink in.

Moony had been sent off to live with those monsters. Remus had been forced to serve under the disgusting creature who had turned him. Sirius knew that even if Remus had been permitted to tell him where he was going, he wouldn't have. _Couldn't_ have. It would have destroyed him.

Shit.

"Dumbledore sent you to spy on _werewolves_?"

"Yes, shocking, isn't it. Dumbledore sending anyone to live with those _filthy_ monsters. Truly horrific. Oh, hang on a minute, I'm one too, so it all worked out just dandy, didn't it!"

"Don't you dare start acting like that's what I meant, Remus. That's not fair. How could you even say that? But you know what, you're absolutely right. If I had known I would have stopped it."

"Which is _exactly_ why I didn't tell you."

"You should have, though. I _should_ have known."

"_Why_?"

"Because someone should have told Dumbledore it wasn't right to exploit _you_ like that, of all people. You're not his chess piece, Remus. You deserve to be looked after properly. You deserve to be treated like everybody else. Not like one of those bastards. _That's_ why I should have known!"

Remus stopped pacing. He wasn't facing Sirius, but Sirius knew that he was on the verge of traitorous tears.

"Oh _Moony_."

Sirius leapt up and pulled Remus towards him, holding him tightly as he sobbed that he was sorry, that it was his fault. Sirius told him it wasn't, that it was okay, that they were going to be all right, that he was so brave, that Sirius was sorry too. He eventually managed to coax Remus back onto the lounge and just held him. Eventually Remus' jagged breathing evened out and he fell into an exhausted sleep.

Sirius was relieved. He was so incredibly relieved.

Moony had _talked_.

Not a lot. Not even willingly.

But he _had_ talked.

And it was enough for now.

Sirius looked down at the sleeping form of his friend, and wished that things had been different for him. That he had been allowed to now the love of his sister. That he had never been bitten. That he had found better friends. That he had never been touched by the unforgiving hands of war.

Because who deserved all of those things more than Remus?

Eventually, Sirius' eyelids became heavy and the alcohol in his system and the warmth of Remus's body pressed against his own coerced him into a hazy sleep.


	9. Morning Sunshine

**Morning Sunshine.**

Very early the next morning Sirius was woken by the sharp cries of a little godson who had decided it was time for Sirius and Remus, the neighbours, the drunk bloke that spent the night in the between the bins outside, the Polish family that lived four blocks away, the Queen and everyone _else_ in between, to wake up. Now. Right this second.

"Ergh," Sirius groaned. It was too early to be forming coherent syllables. In fact if he really thought about it, it was too early to even be thinking of syllables. Actually, all Sirius could really think about was how _brilliant_ it was to be asleep. As in not awake. Like he was right now. Now was shit. Especially since he had been having a really ace dream, he couldn't exactly remember what it was about, but he was certain Remus was in it with him.

Another cry assaulted his ears.

"Merlin." _What_ time was it? And more importantly, _why_ on earth would Harry want to be awake now? Didn't that kid understand the sanctity of Sunday morning sleep ins?

Harry cried out again.

Obviously not. Bollocks.

Groaning, Sirius opened his eyes and was met with an eyeful of light brown hair. Bloody hell, hair was _spiky_. All pokey and sharp and it most definitely did not belong in Sirius' eyeball. Wiping it from his eyes he forced himself to wake up a bit. He seemed to be lying on something pointy. He didn't mind though, he was rather comfortable, despite the pointy thing nudging at his chest. In the next few moments of just-awakeness and bloody-hell-I'd-rather-be-asleepness, Sirius became aware that he was being watched by Remus, who was also awake and looking up at him expectantly.

"'Lo, Moony," Sirius said.

"Hello," Remus replied, still gazing as though he was waiting for something. All expectant and patient looking. Typical Moony.

"Time?" Sirius yawned.

"Just after five," Remus replied, glancing at his watch. It was still mostly dark outside and Remus features were slightly blurry to Sirius. He looked as though he was trying not to smile. He was failing. He had a slightly crooked 'I know something you don't know' smile just itching at the corners of his mouth.

"What's up?" Sirius asked, wiping some sleep from his eye. It was all gooey. Yum. He was tempted to flick it on Remus, but thought better of it, Remus wasn't the biggest fan of other peoples bodily fluids (or other peoples bodies in general), so he wiped it on his shirt. Better safe than sorry.

"You are, apparently," Remus stated, looking up at him with bright marauding eyes, though there was a flush of colour on his usually pale cheeks.

"Really? Well, I had no idea, Mr Moony."

"No, I-I don't think you do, Sirius," Remus said. His blush deepened. His cheeks were now a lovely shade of crimson.

Sirius was quite clearly _missing_ something.

Something rather important.

It took several moments for Sirius to realise exactly why he was looking _down_ at Remus. With a terrible sense of shock and utter mortification, Sirius realised the pointy thing he was lying on _was_ Remus.

He, Sirius Black, was lying on top of one Remus Lupin.

They must have fallen sideways onto the sofa at some point during the night and Sirius had pinned his friend beneath him. Hell, he had ended up straddling Remus.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuckity Fuck.

That wasn't the worst part, though. No. Not by a long shot. As Remus shifted underneath his weight, Sirius became aware of an all too familiar sensation pooling in his abdomen, and he realised being awake wasn't what Remus had meant when he had said that it was Sirius that was 'up'.

He was _hard_.

With _Remus_ pressed beneath him.

"_Fuck_!" Sirius cried out as he scrambled off of Remus and fell onto the floor with a loud _thump_. Remus, clearly embarrassed, burst out in a fit of nervous laughter. Poor Moony, he's going to need therapy after this. Did Werewolf Support Services offer counselling for sexual harassment victims?

_Fuck_.

"Shit. Remus I-I'm so sorry." Sirius spluttered out. "I, uh..._Shit_."

"S'alright, Pa-Padfoot," Remus managed in between bouts of nervous laughter, which were fast turning into rather silly giggles, "I was just a little su-surprised. If I'd known _that_ was the sort of company y-you wanted last night I would have made you _pay _me first."

Sirius, whose face was burning with embarrassment, chucked a cushion at his head. "Shut up you wanker."

"I don't think I'm the wanker here, Mr Black."

Sirius glared at Remus, who looked as though he was not sure whether to continue laughing or to change the subject. Remus opened his mouth ever so slightly and Sirius knew the other young man's uncomfortableness had won out over his sense of humour, which Sirius thought was understandable. Remus had held out much longer than he would have ever predicted.

Harry cried out again.

That kid had brilliant timing.

"I'll get him," Remus said quickly, practically leaping up off the lounge.

His hair was all mussed up on the left side of his head where it had rubbed against the lounge. His collar was all rumbled and the jumper seemed to have lost most of its shape during the night. And as Remus stretched his creaky limbs both the shirt and jumper rode up to reveal the milky white skin hidden beneath. Sirius just wanted the earth to swallow him whole when he realised he was _now_ really turned on as he watched Remus disappear into _his_ bedroom.

Shit. How on earth did that manage to make him randy? It was_ REMUS_ for Merlin's sake.

_Is it that hard to believe? _That voice that sounded like his mother (which Sirius had reluctantly come to accept was his conscience; oh the irony) asked. Sirius took it for a rhetoric._ He was in your dream after all and by the looks of it, it hadn't been totally innocent, now had it?_

For the first time since his mother had apparently become his conscience, he had nothing to tell her.

No shut ups or bugger offs.

No go aways.

_Nothing_.

Because what she said made sense.

All he could think was no.

No, no, no, _no_, no, no that couldn't be possible. It just _couldn't_. He must have gotten confused. Remus must have been in a previous dream. Maybe James and Peter had been in it too so he'd just blocked out the rest of the details of that dream because they hurt too much and just gotten mixed up. Because Remus couldn't have been in the last one. There was no way. No way in hell. Just...no.

_Please_ _no_.

He'd dealt with this. Back in seventh year.

He was _over_ it. Over the awkward, _childish_ infatuation.

Over Remus.

He knew he was. It had been almost five years and he hadn't felt like _that _about Remus (or any other male) in that whole time. They were friends. Best friends. That was how it was supposed to be, how Sirius wanted it to be.

Maybe he was just stressed and in need of a decent shag. He couldn't even remember the last time he had one. It must have been several months at least. _Merlin_. That was probably it. That thought calmed Sirius down enough to be able to consider his next move. First thing's first. He needed a shower. A cold one. He should go do that now.

So he did.

After his shower, and after berating himself for even thinking that those feelings had come back, because it was a truly ridiculous notion, laughable even, Sirius got dressed back into his trousers and shirt. They were a little crushed from being slept in, but he couldn't bring himself to care, they were clean. It was better than his usual standard. He used a towel to get rid of the excess water in his hair, cause it was irritating when it _always_ dripped down his neck, especially when it was cold. He brushed his teeth too. And combed his still damp hair. Once he was decent he lost his nerve ever so slightly, what if...? No. Don't even bother thinking it. Everything was normal. _He_ was normal.

"Man up, Black!" He told himself. With a held breath Sirius yanked open the bathroom door and walked back into the combined living room and kitchen area. It wasn't the biggest flat.

Remus was seated at his kitchen table. His sleeves were rolled to the elbow and his hair had been tamed slightly except now it fell in his eyes. Harry was seated on his knee. Sirius watched on as Remus fed Harry a mashed banana. It wasn't going too well. Harry had gotten his little hands into the bowl and was making lovely banana handprints on Remus' jumper. Merlin, there was mush on Remus' cheek too.

Remus didn't seem to mind, he was busy murmuring softly to Harry.

"Now Harry," He said, giving the kid another mouthful of banana, "you've got to be good and eat your breakfast, otherwise your godfather is going to make fun of me." He wasn't wrong there.

Harry giggled.

"Yes, just like that, and we don't want that do we?" Predictably, Harry didn't answer, apparently no one told Remus that though, as he continued his rather animated one-sided conversation with, "No, you're right, we certainly don't."

Harry opened his mouth, presumably to babble some more and Remus sneakily spooned in another mouthful.

Hmm, Sirius would have to remember that trick, making broomstick noises every _single_ time he fed Harry a spoonful of mush was getting rather tedious.

Remus was still talking.

"But you know what? Maybe later we can go down to the park and see the ducks. Would you like to see the ducks, Harry?"

"Da da da da!" Harry garbled excitedly and clapped his hands together.

"Yes, ducks, Harry. Can you say duck?"

"Da!"

Remus shrugged.

"Close enough. Good boy," He praised, cleaning Harry's face and hands. Sirius watched as Remus' long, graceful fingers gently wiped the away banana that Harry had somehow managed to get under his chin and in his nose and on top of his ear. Were kids always that messy?

"Now, once Sirius over there," Remus nodded over to where Sirius had _thought_ he had been hiding, "gets _you_ dressed, we can go."

"Oi, since when do you get to call the shots?" Sirius asked.

"Since I so kindly let you have your dastardly way with me last night," Remus stated all matter-of-factly. Merlin, for someone so prudish, Remus could be a real dirty bastard.

Luckily Sirius was _always_ a dirty bastard.

"Are you suggesting you were left wanting after last night, my dear?" Sirius asked, "I was under the impression you were quite _enjoying_ being ravished by me. The neighbours certainly thought so."

"My opinion on the matter of _ravishing_ is neither here nor there, and the neighbours would do to keep their noses out of _my_ bedsheets," Remus quipped as he set Harry down on the floor so that he could play. "However, I did let you have your way with me so you do owe me. Hurry up. I want to go to the park and have breakfast someplace decent."

"I don't really think thats how it works, love," Sirius replied. He wasn't quite ready to end this game. He hadn't mucked about like this in ages. It was fun. And Moony was being rather hilarious.

"Well then, Master Black, I would be much obliged if you..._educated_ me." Remus said in nothing short of a seductive tone, accompanied by an all too innocent look to _actually_ look innocent.

It was ludicrous. And if Sirius had been so inclined, which he _wasn't_, it would have been rather hot. This was Remus, sitting at his kitchen table with a bowl of mashed banana in his hands and an innocent baby at his feet, acting all flirty and sexy. Sirius thought it was bloody brilliant.

He walked over to Remus and fell to his knees before him, put on his most imploring look and said, "Though you have captured my heart and soul I fear I cannot allow you free reign over my life. It is not my own yet, I am not yet mine own master. I am merely an unwanted, unloved heir. Forced to bend to the will of my despicable mother." Sirius took Remus' hand and held it to his chest, "However, when the old bat dies, and I become Master of my fortune, I shall make you the rightful 'Mistress of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black'."

"Why, Master Black, that is the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me. I scarce know what to say," Remus paused as though deep in thought, "Oh, I've got it!" he announced and then slapped Sirius on the back of his head, "Get the baby dressed you daft thing and lets go."

"Of course, M'Lady," Sirius said bowing forward and winking at Remus.

Remus shuddered. It must have been a good one. Remus could never receive a good wink well. Weird bloke, that Lupin.

Harry crawled over to Sirius and started to yank on the buttons of his shirt.

"Oi, Harry. I don't think you're supposed to do that, mate," he said. Remus coughed. "Go yank on Moony's dacks," Sirius told his godson as he spun him around on his bottom and set him on the path to Remus' trouser leg.

"Gee, thanks Padfoot," Remus replied as Harry began to pull on his pants.

"You're welcome," He replied as he stood up to go and get changed, but then he noticed there was still some food on Remus' face. Without even thinking he leant forward and wiped it off Remus' cheek with his thumb.

"Sirius-" Remus breathed. He had that look in his eyes that made Sirius feel all weird and see-through and his stomach did a flip. Jesus bloody fuck.

"You had banana on your cheek," Sirius said quickly. Much too quickly for it to not be weird. Damn it, he'd gone and made it all creepy. He noticed Harry had abandoned his pursuit of Remus' trousers and was now looking up at him with big green eyes. Great, even the baby thought he was a nutter.

"Oh. Um, thanks," Remus said quietly, smiling ever so slightly.

Thank Merlin.

"I'll change Harry," Sirius said as he swept Harry up off the floor and threw him into the air. Harry let out a squeal of delight. Remus sighed heavily and dropped his head onto the table. Sirius caught Harry and was proud to see his godson beaming up at him. "Did you like that, my little minion?" he asked, shifting the kid to his hip. Harry clapped enthusiastically. "Well, well," he whispered conspiratorially into his ear, "if you're good for Padfoot and let me change you, then maybe we can have some fun down at the park. Maybe help Moony go for a swim-"

"If you so much as think about finishing that sentence, Black, I will hurt you," Remus said, not even bothering to lift his head off the table.

"Don't be like that, Moony," Sirius called back, "Maybe some witch in shining armour will come and rescue you."

"No one can save me from your insanity, I'm afraid."

"I know there's a complement in there somewhere, Remus," Sirius called out as he walked into the bedroom. He heard Remus call something back but he couldn't quite make it out. It was probably something rude. Putting Harry down on the bed, Sirius let out a sigh of relief. Everything was fine. He was acting like a cocky bastard and Remus was insulting him. _Everything was perfectly normal._

"I reckon today might be a good one, mate," Sirius said to Harry once he had changed him into a singlet, a clean nappy, a green jumpsuit, and a cozy navy jumper.

"Ba ba ba!" Harry said, as he tried to roll over and out of Sirius' grasp. He wasn't quick enough, though. Not quite.

"Gotcha!" Sirius said as he pulled Harry back towards him and picked him up. Harry giggled. Everything was all fun and games when you were one. Even for orphans. Bloody hell. Sirius felt such an intense sense of bittersweet love for the little boy looking up at him with his mother's eyes, and he vowed he would do anything to let Harry know he was _so_ _loved_ still. Even though his parents were gone.

"We love you, you know, me and Remus. And Mrs Lupin. We love you so much Harry," He said gently, stroking Harry's ridiculously messy hair. Harry seemed oblivious and continued to babble on about something important to a child of one year and three months.

Sirius grabbed his leather jacket off the floor and after making sure his wand was in his pocket he headed back out to Remus, who was donning a well worn coat. Sirius nodded to him and together they headed out of the flat.

"All right there Moony?" Sirius said, closing the front door behind him, as he noticed a slight frown on his companions face. He seemed to be looking at Harry. What was wrong?

"His collar's all caught up," Remus said as he pulled the little peter pan collar of Harry's suit out of his jumper and smoothed it out so it wasn't creased. Not like both of Remus and Sirius' collars. Sirius didn't mention that to Remus though.

Instead he said, "You're daft, you know that?"

"I know it," Remus told him, grinning. "But you put up with me, so it can't be that all that terrible."

"S'not terrible at all, mate," Sirius said as they walked down the steps and headed outside.

* * *

This was just a bit of a filler chapter, but i had fun with it. Thoughts please! xox


	10. You're Joking, Right?

**You're Joking Right?**

They walked to breakfast at _Morag's Mess_, a cafe a few blocks away from Sirius' flat that was managed by little bint with wild, mud coloured hair and piercing blue eyes who just happened to be absolutely smitten with Remus, who was unfailingly polite in the face of all of her unwanted attention and sexual advances. Had it not been for the fact that she never charged them for their meals, they would never have stepped foot into the place ever again after the first time they went. It had been rather horrific. She had been all over him. There had been a marriage proposal. There was a denial of said proposal.

There were tears.

From James. He had sworn it was the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed and how dare Remus deny such a lovely woman such a wonderful opportunity. Bloody Potter.

Sirius had hexed him..._What?_...Someone had to do it.

Yet _Morag's Mess_ became a frequented spot for the Marauder's, more for the comedic value than anything else. It had actually been a really spectacular establishment, in Sirius' opinion...before everything turned to shit. Sirius hadn't been in there for a couple of months now.

He suspected Remus may have continued to come here by himself in the past few months, since a waitress (fortunately not Tina; the one in love with Moony) called _Moira_, was friendly with Remus and seemed surprised to see Sirius accompanying him. Sirius felt guilty that Remus had resorted to coming here without anyone to protect him from Tina just to eat.

He didn't dare broach the topic with Remus though, who seemed to sense what he was thinking, and silenced him with a look. Well, that was that then.

No heart to heart with Moony this early in the morning.

It was only _nine_.

And had it been up to Sirius, which it most certainly was not, and unlikely to be for a very long time, he would still be _asleep_. Dead to the world. All warm and cozy and unconscious. Curled up on the sofa. '_With_ _Remus_...' that traitorous and remarkably blunt conscience of his whispered. This was his punishment for decorating the great hall with Snape's underwear in fourth year, he was sure of it.

_Curled up on the sofa with Remus. _

On second thoughts, maybe it was best that they _were_ up and about. Not curled up anywhere. That there was a good arms length between Sirius and Remus.

That was very good.

_Bloody Hell, Black! Shut up you idiot!_

Okay. _Okay_.

Shutting up now.

No chance of him going all creepy again.

He forced all thought of creepiness from his mind and mucked about with Harry. Sirius thought he heard Remus mutter something about 'infantile' and 'daft mutt', but he couldn't be sure.

It was a quiet event. Sort of nice though, kind of...normal. Or as normal as something could be without ever having actually done it before.

Remus had a pot of tea and toast with butter and blackberry jam and read through the local muggle paper (the moving pictures in _The Prophet_ tended to catch they eyes of the muggles and were best left at home) whilst Sirius had a _proper_ breakfast with eggs and bacon and tomato and a muffin and swindled a couple of sips of tea from Remus while he wasn't looking, and entertained Harry.

Once they were done there, which was coincidentally the exact moment Tina entered the cafe for her shift, they walked (or in Remus' case, _fled_) down to a little park a couple of blocks further away and spent the morning playing with Harry and showing him the 'duckies' swimming in the pond.

After a little while Sirius decided he _needed_ a break, it was rather difficult to act as though he wasn't itching the chase the bloody birds around a bit, especially when that tiny bit of his brain that was all canine was twitching excitedly at the edge of his consciousness.

Chase the ducks.

_Chase_ the duck.

That duck. That one. No. No. _That_ one.

Chase. _Chase_. Chase the duck.

_Duck_.

It drove him to distraction. He suspected Remus was aware of canine instincts and their maddening single-mindedness. Not that Remus would ever admit to having canine urges. He would never admit to the wolf being that much a part of him. Like he would never admit to actually _liking_ being roped into ridiculously absurd pranks that surely would have earned them all detentions for at least and week and would be an abuse of his prefect status.

A cold gust of wind blew through the trees and made Sirius shiver. He hoped he'd put Harry in warm enough clothes. It was colder than he had thought.

The fallen autumn leaves danced across the ground, swept up and thrown back to earth in the sharp air. Sirius thought it was rather beautiful. It wasn't because it was pretty or peaceful, though.

Because it wasn't. Not in the slightest.

Not to Sirius at least.

It was beautiful to him because he could feel the agitation of the earth. Her impatience at the too slowly changing weather. Feeling it was _incredible_. It was _exhilarating_.

The rustling of the leaves across the sullen ground and the wind whipping through his hair made him feel so alive.

And he loved how it made him _feel_.

Because at that moment he wasn't feeling the pain and the grief and the worry of whether or not Harry was warm and the scary feeling fluttering around his stomach that he couldn't quite place. He _couldn't_ feel himself. Instead he was _feeling_ the shift of the earth. Feeling the changing of her _colours_. Feeling the magic soaring through the wind.

It was brilliant.

It was why Sirius had been so determined to make his motorbike fly. So that he could feel the wind and the magic. Always. It was unlike anything else Sirius had ever felt.

It was incredible. _Real_ magic.

Magic that allowed him to believe it was enough to simply be alive at that very moment and feel the weak sunlight on his face and the wind in his hair and the sound of rustling in his ears.

It was like he was everything and nothing at the same time. As though _anything_ was possible and nothing else mattered but the fact that it could.

As though he could be more than his family's outcast. More than just a Black. Less than a _Sirius_ _Black_.

Just a Sirius.

Just him.

It was all he had ever really wanted. As a young child all he had wanted was a friend who didn't shy away from him for being one of _those_ Blacks. As an angst ridden teenager all he had wanted was to be left alone, not lusted after by stupid bint's who though his estrangement from his family made him some sort of dark and brooding romantic, (like that Darcy fellow in that book Lily loved and forced Remus to read).

It didn't. All it did was make him volatile and stupid. _Ask_ _Remus_. He could vouch for that. He had been on the receiving end of Sirius' severe temper and idiocy more than anyone else. _More_ than Snivellus even.

Sirius truly hated himself for that. That he had punished Remus for his own shortcomings. Punished him for forgiving something that ought to have been unforgivable. For being a better person that Sirius could ever be.

For being Remus.

Even now, as a man, Sirius couldn't escape his heritage. His wretched history. His birthright. The curse of a _pure_ _bloodline_. He had never been allowed to forget the despicable poison coursing through his veins. Sirius had never been afforded that freedom. And he had never been brave enough to seek it for himself.

He didn't think he deserved to be free of it.

Suffering was his repentance.

Sirius pulled a cigarette from his pocket and watched Remus and Harry explore the reeds at the waters edge. Harry appeared to be taken by something they had discovered lurking there.

Sirius shoved a hand into his pocket to make sure that his wand was still there. It was. Also found was handkerchief that he was pretty sure wasn't his, a ball-point pen and an old, mostly faded ticket from a quidditch game he and James had gone to a couple of months prior. Interesting.

He held the wand tightly in his palm.

Because something felt off.

Not wrong, exactly, but he felt like he was not the only one watching Moony and the baby. He had an inkling in the tips of his fingers that there was magic in the air, wizarding magic that wasn't his or Remus'.

He wasn't naive. And he was only _really_ stupid when he lost his temper. He _knew_ they weren't safe.

And he also knew he could very well be _right_. They could very well be being watched.

Voldemort may be gone, but his followers - _Death_ _Eaters_ - were not. Harry was still ridiculously _vulnerable_. And Sirius knew the majority of his family would love to claim his murder as their own accomplishment. Bellatrix especially, since he had bested her at their last meeting. He hoped regrowing the bones in her leg had been fun for her. He would have dearly loved to watch it. Watch _her_ suffer. It would only be fair.

And then there was Remus. He was a target too.

Though he had not the fame of Harry or the family of Sirius, he _was_ a member of the _Order of the Phoenix_. That alone meant he had practically signed a death warrant. Not to mention he was a close friend of the Potter's and of Sirius. Not to mention the fact that he was a werewolf. His condition wasn't common knowledge, but he was on the registry, though, mercifully, not the public one. He wouldn't have survived school if he had been.

His case had been classified, an ongoing investigation, and as the werewolf who attacked him had never been caught, his name had never been revealed to the public.

Remus' case had been one of the worst attacks reported in Britain, there had been quite a lot of press surrounding it; a very small child, savaged nearly to death by Fenrir Greyback in an act of revenge against the child's father. It had made the front page of _The_ _Prophet_.

Sirius vividly remembered being read the story by his father in the dark and terrifying (for a little boy) library of Grimmauld Place. His father had been quite involved in the Ministry and had all the intimate details of the case, excluding the identity of the child, of course. He had imparted his knowledge of the attack to his son, as a reminder about how foul those monster's were. How inferior. How inhuman.

The story had terrified Sirius, and with the selflessness only small children possessed (and with the heart his mother had failed to beat out of him), he had, trembling violently, asked his father if the other child was alright. If they were hurt. His father had snorted, and told Sirius, '_the_ _child,_' he spat, 'is a monster too, it ought to be executed,' and then Sirius was chased off to bed by Kreacher, effectively ending that conversation.

Sirius did not forget it though.

It had given Sirius nightmares. For _years_. They had not been frequent, but they had lingered in his dreams, even at twelve, at _Hogwarts_.

The thought of a child, he had always imagined it had been a little girl, innocent and angelic and beautiful, being ripped apart by a terrible, evil monster never truly left his tortured subconscious; long, sharp teeth ripping delicate flesh, screams for help unanswered, consumed by terror, crippling fear and agonising pain. It had been too awful to imagine.

That didn't stop Sirius from trying though.

One night, after a particularly violent nightmare about the werewolf and the little girl, Sirius had woken up, screaming bloody murder. Heart racing and shaking like a leaf, he had burst into tears. Terrible, embarrassing, humiliating _tears_. He tried to muffle them with his pillow but it hadn't worked.

Someone had heard them.

Sirius heard the pad of bare feet across the cold floor and the rustle of his drawn curtains and he felt a small, bony body settle under the covers beside his own. He didn't need to move the pillow from his face to know who it was. Peter wouldn't have dared come near an upset Sirius, let alone slip _under_ the covers with him and James would have been too embarrassed to do so.

It had been Remus.

Of _course_ it had.

Remus in striped pyjamas with a handkerchief in his pocket and kind words on his lips. He had calmed Sirius down and given him the handkerchief to dry his face. He had listened patiently as Sirius had told him all about the dream, about that night in the library. He had been too wrapped up in his story to notice the terrified expression on Remus' face.

Once he had finished his tale, Remus had told him quietly that he felt sure the little girl was doing just fine, that Sirius should just forget about _her_, because she wouldn't want him to suffer for her. Sirius had told him that he couldn't just forget about her, every girl needed a _knight_ in shining armour, after all. Remus had chuckled softly, and told him that maybe she didn't need a knight to save her. Maybe all she needed was a friend.

Sirius had told Remus he was daft, and asked why on earth would she want a _friend_ when she could be swept off her feet by a brave and charming knight and be taken to his castle and live happily ever after.

Remus had giggled that time, sensing Sirius was no longer upset and now just being a prat, and smacked Sirius on the back of the head and _told_ him to go to sleep.

Less than two months later Sirius and James and Pete discovered Remus' secret.

It hadn't been until that night that Sirius realised that the little werewolf that had haunted his dreams for _over_ _half_ _his_ _life_ may not have been a little girl at all. Silently Sirius had crept across the floor and over to Remus' bed. He had quietly slipped through the curtains and crawled underneath the covers, searching beneath the blankets until he found a small bundle of boy, of Remus, curled in on himself, buried under all the blankets. Brown eyes met grey under the cover of darkness.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Sirius had whispered, though, by now, he knew the answer. The little girl of his nightmares was already fading from his mind. Replaced by a small little boy, with big brown eyes, rosy cheeks and light brown hair that was currently mussed up from the blankets. He dreaded the thought of his next nightmare, for he knew it would not be the girl being torn apart by a monster, but his friend. It would be Remus, _had_ _been_ Remus, who had felt his flesh being torn from _his_ little body, _his_ screams that went unanswered for far too long, and _his_ broken body that would _haunt_ Sirius for days after.

Remus had looked at him, really looked at him, and for the _first_ time, it had made Sirius' stomach all queasy and he felt sort of see-through.

"Yes," Remus had whispered back just as quietly, his voice weak and watery.

"I'm so sorry, Remus."

"It's alright," he replied, "I-I was lucky. I _survived_. Most others...most others didn't." The thought of Remus being _lucky_ to survive that made had made the twelve year old Sirius want to throw up.

Actually, it still made Sirius feel the desire to throw up even now, at twenty two.

"So I guess I don't need to borrow a suit of armour anymore, do I?" Sirius had asked, all of the sudden feeling slightly stupid.

"No. Not unless your expecting a house-elf rebellion tomorrow. In that case I think I would like one too," Remus laughed. Sirius laughed a little too.

"Did you really mean what you said?" Sirius asked, suddenly curious, "That night. About just wanting a friend?"

Remus nodded and Sirius felt so sorry for him that it _hurt_. Sirius had grabbed his friends hand and held it tightly. "Well," He said, all bossy and proud, "James and Peter are your _friends_ and _I'm_ your friend," he said tapping Remus on his forehead, "and you'll _never_ be able to get rid of us. So you'd better just deal with having two more friends than you wanted. Am I clear, Lupin?"

"Clear as crystal, _Sir_." Remus told him, all serious looking. Sirius had poked his tongue out at him and they dissolved into muffled laughter. A sort of sleepy stillness settled over them and Sirius had felt his eyelids getting heavy. He had wanted to sleep, and he knew he didn't want to got back to his own bed. "Remus, I...do you mind if I stayed the night? Just, just so I know you're alright?"

"Okay," Remus had whispered back, the smallest smile on his sleepy face. Sirius remembered that moment most clearly; Remus' face, obscured by the blanket, a small smile on his lips and their hands clasped in between them. They had fallen asleep, buried in the blankets, hands still intertwined tightly together.

Twelve years old and both too aware of the cruelty of the world to be natural. The world had not been a very kind place for either of them, and that made them different from their other friends, made their friendship _more_ special. More exclusive. He understood Remus in a way James or Peter couldn't and in return, Remus was willing to see Sirius in a way neither boy would be brave enough to.

That night, Sirius had failed to fully comprehend the simple fact that Remus did _not_ need a knight in shining armour. He wasn't looking to be rescued or saved. And if Sirius was being honest with himself, he had been failing spectacularly to comprehend that ever since. Some _irrational_ part of him could not let go of the need to protect the boy, or rather the man, who was looking at the ducks with Harry in his arms.

Merlin knows he tried.

He failed. So _many_ times.

And on more than one occasion he was what Remus had needed protection from. It hurt to admit that but it was true.

Again, Sirius wondered why on earth he was made responsible for another life, why _he_ was Harry's Godfather.

_Why_ him?

It really wasn't fair to Harry.

He was caught so deep in his thoughts that he did not see the elderly man with a long white beard in dark purple robes, pointy matching hat and half-moon spectacles until a quiet voice broke the silence and said, "Good morning, Sirius."

Sirius fell over.

Lying on the ground and trying to restart his heart, Sirius looked up at Dumbledore in disbelief. Did he think that was _funny_? He sacred Sirius half to death.

It _did_ explain why he felt like he was being watched though.

"Shall I join you down there, Mr Black? You look a little lonely," Dumbledore said jovially looking down at Sirius, collapsed on the ground, a familiar twinkle in his eye, though there seemed to be some sort of tension around his crinkly face. Sirius couldn't tell whether he was glad to see the man or a little bit annoyed. He _had_ been waiting for another visit, but at the same time, it would end their little outing. He really had been enjoying himself, even the little walk down memory lane.

"No. No, I was just, ah, getting up," he said, scrambling to his feet and dusting himself off. He looked back to the pond and found Remus with a now crying Harry tucked up in his arms, headed towards he and the Headmaster.

"Good lad, now...ah, good morning Remus," he said as Remus came to stand beside Sirius, "I see that young Mr Potter has had enough of the park."

"Good morning, Professor," Remus called over a loud wail from Harry, who seemed to be in need of a nap.

"Sorry Professor, he's really tired. It's been a big week for him. Sorry," Remus said apologetically to his old Headmaster, bundling the baby close to his chest and rocking him gently. Harry almost instantly ceased wailing, his cry reduced to a sorry little whimper.

Honestly, Moony had a gift.

It was quite ridiculous how good he was with children. Even Lily, _the_ Lily Evans, the most brilliant witch and most capable mother Sirius reckoned had ever existed, had on multiple occasions sought Remus ought to get Harry off to sleep when her and James' attempts had failed.

"There is nothing to apologise for, I believe its been a big week for all three of you," Dumbledore said kindly. He wasn't wrong there. Sirius was absolutely knackered. And Remus looked exhausted. "But I'm afraid I must ask for a little more of your time."

"What's happened?" Remus asks, before Sirius can even comprehend what the implications of Dumbledore's words. Never misses a beat, Moony does.

"Peter Pettigrew is dead." Remus gasped, "Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband are in Azkaban. Frank Longbottom is in St Mungos. Please, you are both required at the Ministry immediately."

Peter Pettigrew is dead.

Peter Pettigrew is _dead_.

The _rat_ was dead. Just like Lily and James.

What?

"_Fuck_," Remus said, a look of disbelief on his face. Sirius swore from shock.

Remus didn't swear in front of people. _Ever_. And certainly not in front of Dumbledore.

Dumbledore almost looked amused. Almost. He wasn't, though.

"Gentlemen?" he asked, his foot tapping the ground, arms crossed. Sirius wondered when Dumbledore had slept last. He didn't think it was anytime recent.

"Ministry, yeah?" Sirius asked, grabbing hold of Remus' hand.

"Yes, your office should suffice," Dumbledore told him.

Closing his eyes, Sirius disapparated from the park, with Remus and Harry by his side.

* * *

Not sure how I feel about this chapter. Your feedback would be much appreciated! Black Reaver. xox


	11. Hello Handsome

**Hello Handsome.**

The Ministry was in total disarray, and to Bertha Jorkins, it was a _perfect_ day. Gossip spread like fiendfyre on days like this. And for someone as nosy as Bertha, _gossip_ was what made the world go around, or at the very least, made her days in the Department of Magical Games and Sports go faster. And that was _always_ good.

She didn't particularly love her job. It was rather...unglamorous. Boring. And people didn't wish they were her when she told them what she did at the Ministry.

Bertha had always imagined herself in some sort of exciting role within the Ministry, something that would make everyone _notice_ her. Something like...like...well, she didn't _know_ exactly what she had imagined herself doing, however it certainly wasn't organising rosters and score charts for rural Quidditch matches for children aged six to eleven. It was slightly better than her stint in the Ludicrous Patents office, but not by much. Going out and inspecting prospective Quidditch pitches in muddy fields wasn't particularly glamourous.

Especially in the winter months. Or in _dragon_ country. If she ever had to go and inspect another pitch for the Macfusty clan ever again she would die. She was certain of it.

Oh, just _thinking_ of _that_ Hebridean Black made her shiver all over. It was with the thought of dragons that she stepped into the elevator on the ground floor. It was terribly crowded. And there were six owls, siting atop the perch. Six. She hastily pulled her 'elevator hat' from her pocket and put it on. She would just die of embarrassment if she had to walk around with bird droppings on her head. Clutching a folder filled with posters of Quidditch teams to pin around the office to her chest, Bertha listened eagerly for any scraps of news she could get. To her utter dismay, the only conversation was between a red-headed wizard in shabby robes and a bored looking witch holding what looked to be a muggle radio.

"...Now I have no idea how muggles can make these without magic," the man said, poking at the dial on the radio, which in turn shot out angry red sparks and a garbled version of Celestina Warbeck's _A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love_ from its speakers. There was a general protest from the crowd and the man hastily turned the dial down. "Sorry!"

"Arthur!" The witch screeched, "How many times have I told you, do not touch _anything_ until we get back to the office!"

"Sorry!" He said, holding his hands behind his back and looking much like a scolded child. Bertha gave him a good, long glare.

Thankfully they reached the second floor and the wizard, the witch and their awful radio stepped out of the elevator, followed by four of the birds.

Thank Merlin.

The door began to close and Bertha was getting accustomed to the extra space in the elevator when a hand slipped through the doors. Damn. The doors sprung back to reveal a tall young man with black hair and a charming smile.

Goodness gracious, it was Sirius Black.

"Oh, hello Jorkins," Sirius said, sounding surprised. That made two of them. Bertha _tried_ not the look flustered at the fact he remembered who she was. She had been two years ahead of him at school and never paid much notice of him, until he began to work at the Ministry. Then she began to notice him an _awful_ lot.

"Hello Sirius," she giggled. Oops. It was hardly her fault though. The man was gorgeous, and he was an Auror, and he was holding a darling little baby. Now _this_ was gossip. She wondered whose baby it was. He wasn't seeing anyone as far as she knew, and she had enquired an awful lot on the matter. Hmm.

"Is there enough room in here for two more?" he asked, though Bertha suspected he was not really interested in an answer, as he stepped inside regardless, ignoring the complaints from the people that there most certainly wasn't. He waved a hand at the dismissively and then called out, "You coming?"

Another familiar face slipped in through the doors of the elevator, which promptly slammed shut behind him. It was Remus Lupin. He looked very different from the last time Bertha had seen him, which was some years ago. He looked tired and stressed, pale and ill, and in desperate need of a square meal. Actually, from what she could remember, he was always in need of a square meal, so maybe he didn't look too different after all. She couldn't really remember. She didn't really care, Lupin was rather plain looking. Compared to Sirius at least.

Lupin saw her and said hello. She noticed he there was a light sheen of sweat across his brow. He looked terribly ill.

He didn't look particularly happy either. He was glaring at Sirius. Sirius looked at him guiltily. "Look, I'm sorry, okay," Sirius said quietly, his head bowed down close to Lupin's. Bertha couldn't help but notice how much closer Sirius was standing next to his friend than really was necessary, the elevator may be cramped but he didn't have to practically stand on top of Lupin.

"You...you _apparated_ us into a toilet cu-cubicle," Lupin hissed, quite clearly out of sorts, and louder than he intended, Bertha was sure. Several occupants of the elevator smothered laughter and he looked terribly embarrassed from the attention.

"I know. I'm an idiot, and I'm really sorry." Sirius said earnestly, and Lupin's anger seemed to dissipate ever so slightly. "Are you sure you're alright?" Sirius asked with a frown and with his free hand brushed a few strand of Lupin's hair off his forehead to reveal blossoming bruise on his temple.

Ouch. That must have hurt. A whole lot.

"Oh fuck, Remus." Sirius breathed, and Bertha was touched by the gentleness that his thumb glided over the purple skin. "I hurt you. I'm sorry."

The remorse in Sirius' voice was palpable, and Bertha was touched by the kindness and softness that she didn't know he possessed. It was rather endearing and more than a little hot.

"I'm f-fine," Lupin said, though he didn't look it, he seemed to be getting whiter by the second, "I'm just a little _faint_."

Sirius looked alarmed. "Just hang in there, okay?" He whispered, his hand holding Lupin at the elbow, as if trying to keep him upright. "We get off next floor."

Lupin nodded weakly and muttered into Sirius' shoulder, "If this is what being Mistress of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black is like everyday I'm _quitting_." He mumbled something else that sounded like "And you wont be able to radish me anymore," though she was sure she must have heard him wrong.

Sirius let out a barking laugh. "No Remus. I don't think getting concussed by falling off toilets is a part of the job description."

Lupin seemed to be placated by this response and nodded. "Good. I don't really want to quit. I liked this morning."

"I did too, Remus."

Bertha had no idea what they had happened that morning, but Sirius looked like all his Christmases had come at once as he looked down at Lupin. He had the strangest expression. Lupin seemed oblivious, even as the baby in Sirius' arms tugged on a lock of his hair.

What on earth was going on?

But at that very moment the door pinged and they were gone - Sirius and Lupin and the baby - just as quick as they came, such was the nature of the elevator. Damn it. Elevators really were not the best places to get decent gossip. It was a pity really.

And it really was.

Had Bertha Jorkins known exactly _what_ was going on she could have saved herself from an awful lot of money on expensive perfumes designed to 'snag your wizard'.

Because she would have realised Sirius Black not available. He was already taken.

Whether he knew it or not was another matter entirely.

* * *

This is really just a stupid little chapter that has absolutely no purpose. But I thought it was cute. Maybe. I promise the next chapter will move things forward. Anyway. Reviews are always welcome, especially if you have something that you think I should fix or improve upon. Thank you for reading. BlackReaver xox.


	12. One Way ticket to Hell

**One Way Ticket to Hell. **

Sirius was not patient. He didn't like waiting and he didn't like the eery silences that were often associated with waiting.

They did funny things to him.

They made him think weird and nonsensical things. Like was Remus still alive. Which was silly. Because _of_ _course_ Remus was still alive; he was back in Auror Headquarters sitting in Sirius' cubicle with a lovely case of concussion. He wasn't going anywhere fast. Sirius had carried him there himself. And Remus and Harry were being minded by Shacklebolt so they were going to be _fine_. He was nice bloke and would keep them safe.

He was a fair bit older than Sirius and half the time he spoke like he was stoned, but other than that he was a decent Auror and a good man and he was always easy to work with.

He also had a broken leg, curtesy of Rabastan Lestrange, so he couldn't really move about much, so he had been lumped with babysitting, whilst Sirius and Moody, the rest of the Aurors (minus Alice and Frank) and Dumbledore all headed off to watch the trial of four Death Eaters.

Which was where Sirius was now.

In a dank old dungeon, piled high along the sides with rows and rows of seats, which were by now completely full. _Brilliant_. Just fucking brilliant.

It was quite stuffy.

In the centre of the room were four chairs, which for the time being were empty. At the far end of the room was the Wizengamot. Its fifty or so members all sat waiting with expressionless faces. Sirius found it quite unnerving. Dumbledore as the Chief Warlock, was seated at the very front, next to the Minister of Magic and Barty Crouch, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Crouch looked like he was attending a funeral, although, Sirius mused, that wasn't too far from the truth.

A stint in Azkaban would kill anyone. Eventually.

Dumbledore had given him and Remus a briefing on what had happened, though how much Remus got out of it was anyones guess.

He really hit the ground hard.

Last night Sirius' darling cousin, Bellatrix, her husband, his brother and another Death Eater had discovered the Rat, and done away with him. All that they could find of him was a finger!

Sirius could hardly believe it.

What he could believe, however, was that in the process of hunting him down they terrorised a rural village and killed seventeen muggles. Several of their victims had been children.

And to top it off once the Aurors got on the scene they fought and Frank had been tortured. Dumbledore said it was too soon to say whether or not that damage was permanent, but it was not looking good.

Sirius doubted Frank would be alright.

Death Eaters don't do torture half-heartedly. They either kill you or make you wish that they had. He had seen so many cases of innocent victims, some as young as five, tortured into madness. That was a fate worse than death. The Black part of him wished that they would reintroduce torture as a legal punishment. Then creatures like Bellatrix would get the punishment they deserved.

This was going to be interesting.

Sirius looked around, he was seated right at the back of the dungeon, away from all of the Aurors and Ministry officials, and most importantly, seated as far away from the families of the accused as he could possibly manage. From his position he had a clear view of his Aunt Druella, who was dressed in black robes and had an unreadable expression on her face. Her pale blonde hair was pulled into a bun at the top of her head, and she had ghastly red lipstick on. She looked as though she hadn't aged a day since he had last seen her, though, he always thought she looked a bit like an old dragon, so that really wasn't saying much. Next to her was his cousin, Narcissa. She too was dressed in fancy black robes, though hers much more modern, and she had tears streaming down her face, her blonde hair was limp and lifeless and hung over her face. Sirius thought she looked rather pathetic. Lucius was no where in sight.

But it was the woman next to Narcissa that held his attention. Unlike the two women next to her, she had raven black hair, styled in an intricate knot. Her black robes were draconian and made of the most expensive fabrics money could buy. Her dress was richly decorated with laces and shimmery materials that commanded attention and alluded to royalty. From her neck hung jewels, worth well over several thousand galleons, and on her left ring finger was the ring Sirius' father had placed on her hand when they were married some twenty-three years ago. She had an expression Sirius knew all too well. How could he not?

This woman was his mother.

Sirius felt the blood run cold in his veins. He had not seen her in the flesh since he had been disowned. That had been over five _years_ ago.

That was just shy of a _quarter_ of his life.

He didn't know how to feel.

He was angry, and he wanted nothing more than to be able to dance on her grave, but at the same time he was hurt. Betrayed by the single person who was meant to care for him the most.

She had not loved him.

His own _mother_, the woman who had brought him into the world, had not loved him. Had never expressed anything other than mere tolerance for him at the best of times. She had never told him that she had loved him as a child. Not once. Sirius didn't know if she had ever told Regulus she had loved him, but he didn't care. Regulus had never been much better off than Sirius had been. But the stupid sod had stayed anyway.

Look where that got him.

She had never comforted him after a nightmare or nursed him when he was ill or helped him when he was hurt. In short she was a heartless woman who kept herself alive out of sheer spite and the desire to cause as much suffering as she could to the people around her.

It escaped Sirius' notice that the doors leading to the prisoners had opened, until the silence than had hummed around him began to scream. You could have heard a single strand of hair fall to the floor, had it not been for the fact that the initial presence of Dementors made it impossible for you to feel anything other than their terror. Sirius tore his gaze away from his mother and was greeted with the sight of four prisoners being chained into their chairs in the middle of the courtroom, by a swarm of at least six Dementors.

They were all dressed in prison robes already. Bellatrix looked nothing short of certifiably insane; her robe was falling off her shoulder, thick black hair pooling around her shoulders, piercing black eyes, her lithe frame pressed up against the chains and writhing within their confines, screaming "The Dark Lord shall be avenged!" and "We are his most faithful servants!" and a whole lot of other rubbish that Sirius didn't particularly want to listen to.

The Lestrange brothers sat mutely beside her. Once Bella got on a role it was useless trying to stop her. She would likely attack you. They were well trained.

The other occupant was a different story entirely. He was pathetic looking, not much older than a boy, with sandy-brown hair and wide, terrified eyes, screaming for his parents. With a start Sirius realised it was Barty Crouch's son.

Bloody hell, no wonder Crouch had looked so miserable before. He was putting his own _son_ on trial.

"Father! Please, I didn't do this. I didn't. Mother, don't let him do this!" Bartimus Crouch Jr. begged, down on his hands and knees. "Help me. Please!"

Sirius looked over to Crouch. As soon as he did he wished he hadn't. It wasn't a pretty sight. The man was completely grey in the face and had a look of such contempt that Sirius was genuinely intimidated by it and he was the bloody omen of death, for Merlin's sake!

"You are no son of mine." Crouch yelled hoarsely at his son. Sirius noticed for the first time a petite witch sitting beside him, clutching a handkerchief and rocking backwards and forwards in her seat, sobbing uncontrollably. How he had ever missed that sight he would never know. That must be Mrs Crouch.

Sirius felt very sorry for her.

"NO. Father! Please!" cried Crouch Jr, as he sank back into his chair, attempting to pull his legs up to his chest, sobbing like a child.

He wasn't going to survive a week inside Azkaban.

Crouch stood up and looked down upon the four prisoners. He cleared his throat and began, "The four of you have been brought before the Council of Magical Law, for a...a crime so _heinous_, so despicably wicked-"

"Father," cried the boy, "_please_-"

"-That _I_ have never seen before in this court." Crouch continued, his voice echoing throughout the dungeon. "You are accused of the murder of seventeen muggles, of those, six merely _children_-"

Crouch stopped abruptly, as his wife fainted beside him. Several wizard's rushed to her side, Crouch not included. He just stared at her dumbly.

From this chair the boy cried out for his collapsed mother. "Mother, help me! Please, _Mummy_, help me!" Bellatrix spat at the boy and he promptly shut up, fat tears streaming down his ashen-white face.

Up in the stand, Crouch wiped his brow with a handkerchief and continued. "The...the murder of six children, you are further accused with the murder of a wizard, Peter Pettigrew. An additional accusation is added to you, Mrs Lestrange, for the use of an unforgivable curse on an Auror, Frank Longbottom, when he attempted to apprehend you."

Bellatrix looked positively delighted that she had been given her own additional accusation and sitting up proudly in her chair, she cast a sickening smile at Crouch, who shuddered.

"I now ask the jury-"

"Father!" wailed Crouch Jr.

"-To raise their hands if they believe that these crimes are deserving of a life sentence in Azkaban."

All members of the jury raised their hands.

Well that was that then.

"No!" Screamed the boy, as he fought frantically against the chains that bound him to his chair. "No, Mother! I didn't do it! I didn't do it! Don't let him put be back there! _Please_!"

He screeched and wailed as he was dragged out of the dungeon by two dementors. Crouch's wife was sobbing, yet she said nothing to her son.

Rudolphus and Rabastan said nothing, let no expression pass their features as they were lead away.

Bellatrix, on the other hand, shouted at the top of her lungs that, "The Dark Lord will rise again! You wait and see! Toss us into Azkaban, we will take it gladly, for the Dark Lord will reward his most faithful servants!"

Sirius had his own idea's about what sort of _reward_ Bella had been getting from Voldemort, but he knew better than to raise his suspicions here. His mother, aunt and cousin would likely disembowel him for suggesting that dear, _sweet_ Bellatrix had been fucking the Dark Lord on the side.

The crowd jeered as she was lead away. Good riddance.

Sirius left quickly. He had seen what he had needed to and he didn't want to linger. He hurried out of the dungeon and back down the hall an into the Auror Headquarters.

The place was alive with activity. People clad in crimson robes running all about the place.

"Oi, where was that-?"

"Have you seen my-"

"-Savage! Did you steal my-"

"Shove off, Dawlish-"

"Have anyone seen my socks?"

"No!"

Dawlish, Proudfoot, Savage and Scrimgeour were all busy rushing from one office to another, gathering files and maps and their casual clothes which often make it _all_ round the office by the end of the day and stealing biscuits from Shacklebolt's office. They barely seemed to notice his arrival, though Proudfoot did throw him a biscuit. Cheers.

He walked down to his own office and discovered Remus sitting at his desk with a cup of tea and Harry sleeping on his lap, a book _Wizinology: A study of the Criminal Mind_ open in front of him. Sirius had no idea why Remus had the ability to make him feel instantly _better_, but he was glad of it.

"Only _you_ could find that rubbish interesting," he said as he walked into the room, shutting the door behind him.

Remus didn't seem too surprised by his arrival and instead said, "Actually, I think it's quite fascinating, however, _I'm_ only reading so I don't fall asleep, slip into a coma and die."

Sirius cringed. As Remus had turned to face him he revealed the bruise running all the way down the side of his face. It looked like he'd gotten beaten in the head with a bludger. Actually, that _may_ have been preferable to the truth.

Sirius walked over to his friend and kneeled down in front of him. "Are you feeling any better?"

Remus rolled his eyes and huffed indignantly, "I'm not going to faint on you _again_ if that's what your asking." That wasn't what Sirius was asking at all. He was a little hurt that Remus would think that. Though, Remus was probably a little bit embarrassed about it all, so Sirius couldn't really blame him.

_Could you ever really blame him for anything?_ That voice that sounded like his mother snipped. _Except for that stint where you thought he had betrayed you all to Voldemort, of course. _Piss off. He didn't have the time or the energy to analyse all his interior motives. Not now, at least.

"Not at all. I just wanted to make sure you were alright." Sirius said, looking Remus in the eye. "You scared me, you know. I was worried I'd splinched something inside you." He really had. After they had gotten out of the elevator, Remus just collapsed and Sirius had thought he had _killed_ him.

It had been awful.

"I'm fine," Remus said softly, apparently sensing Sirius' worry and guilt. Harry snuffled and wriggled in Remus' arms, before heaving a great sigh and falling back into a sound sleep.

Sirius thought it might be time to head home. "Do you want to go back to yours or mine?" He asked Remus. He hoped Remus would opt to stay at his again, but Remus would probably want to go back to his flat to make sure everything was all in order.

"I need to go home," Remus sighed, "the rent's due."

"Oh, let me take care of it."

Remus snorted. "You don't owe me _compensation_, Sirius. Honestly," he shook his head, "it's just a bump on the head."

"You're daft. How much is your rent?"

Remus sighed and _reluctantly_ admitted, "fifteen galleons, or thereabouts, a little higher. Maybe."

"Okay," Sirius said casually, as though he were about to discuss the weather, "How much did your mother give you to pay for your rent and food this month?" He knew he had hit a nerve, when Remus looked away from him and instead focused on a map of _Tewksbury_ pinned to the wall. "Come on Remus, how much?"

"Enough."

Bloody hell, it was like drawing blood from stone. "Don't be stubborn," Sirius ordered, "how much?"

"Exactly fourteen galleons." Remus said quietly.

Oh. _Fuck_.

Remus didn't even have enough money to pay for a roof over this head, let alone for food or a new coat, which he was in desperate need of, or a new _book_. Sirius felt an irrational anger towards Mrs Lupin, for not giving Remus enough. But he knew she would have given him anything, so he must have not let on that the rent was more than she thought. That and Sirius was just as much at fault. He should have done something. He knew Remus was short on funds, but he hadn't done anything.

"Remus, you can't live like that."

"I'm moving back in with Mum, until I can find a job, or something." He said, sounding so tired and over absolutely everything it was truly heartbreaking. "I'll figure it out later."

"Remus. _Please_. Let me fix you up this once." Remus opened his mouth to protest but Sirius didn't let him. He wasn't going to lose this argument. It was too important to fuck about with. _Remus_ was took important to fuck about with. "You keep your mother's money, and we'll figure it out from there. You and me. Okay?"

Remus looked at him and nodded, caving at last. "Okay."

* * *

I hadn't intended in posting this but then I felt bad for leaving you with just the previous chapter, in which absolutely nothing happens except I got to get inside another character and play around a bit for my own selfish amusement...and I let Remus get knocked in the head from a collision with a toilet.

Anyway. hope you enjoyed it! BlackReaver. xox.


	13. Of Snotty Robes and Baby Vomit

**Hello lovelies! I'm incredibly sleep deprived at the moment and also a little loopy but heres the next chapter. I'm terribly sorry if there are any stupid spelling errors or general idiocy. i'm too tired to properly proof read. BlackReaver xox.**

* * *

**Of Snotty Robes and Baby Vomit.**

ONE MONTH LATER...

Running.

He was running. It was dark.

_So_ dark.

Even the stars, so bright in the heavens, shed no light upon his path. The forest floor was moving, twisting and weaving through the gnarled roots of the ancient trees. The faster he ran the faster it moved. Getting closer and _closer_. He stumbled. He always stumbled. At that spot.

Just past the Willow.

Always.

Stupid mutt. Who knew it was harder to coordinate four legs than two? Wasn't instinct supposed to fix that? Never mind. He couldn't worry about that now.

It was close. So. _So._ close.

He could feel the hot breath on the back of his neck. Hear the earth churning from underneath their paws. He didn't dare look at the razor sharp fangs he knew were there. If he did that would be the end. Game over. He willed himself to move _faster_. Think faster. Do something - _anything_ - faster. But he couldn't.

It just wasn't _possible_.

He was too weak. His chest was burning. Starved of oxygen. His legs seemed impossibly _heavy_. He couldn't last much longer.

And it was getting closer. Too close. He could _feel_ its side pressing against his own. _Feel_ the teeth breaking through his skin. _Feel_ its eyes bearing down on him. Familiar, big brown eyes. Ones that could make him feel all see through and weak at the knees. Realisation hit him like a Bludger.

_REMUS! _

And then nothing but terrifying, _inky_ blackness.

Sirius gasped as he woke. His chest was heaving and he was covered in a light sheen of sweat. Bloody hell. He'd had another one.

_Another_ nightmare.

For the life of him he didn't know whether the _terror_ of feeling of _jaws_ clamping down on his _throat_ or the _shock_ that the wolf that had been hunting him was in fact _Remus_ had woken him up. He supposed it didn't really matter either way.

"Fuck," Sirius muttered under his breath, checking his wrist watch. It was not yet five. He wasn't surprised. He'd slipped into a routine. Rather unwillingly, mind.

He would put Harry to bed at seven, after having fed and bathed the kid. He seemed to have settled in remarkably well, though it hurt to think that Harry might have forgotten James and Lily already, but he tried to not think about that too much. It was too painful to _think_ about them. It was too soon. He missed them both terribly. Then again, he doubted he would ever stop missing them.

Then once Harry was asleep he would pour over the three-foot high pile of parchment that Moody had ordered him _read_ during his leave. So far he had read each and every piece of parchment five times. He could recall the most intimate details of any case just by glancing at the file number. That was _dedication_. He hadn't put that much effort into anything in his entire life, except becoming an animagus. But _that_ was something else entirely.

Then when he couldn't possibly keep his eyes open any longer, he would _reluctantly_ head to bed.

Not that he would sleep much. It had evaded him like the youngest Peverell brother had evaded death.

And it was entirely his fault.

Sirius had rather _thoughtlessly_ converted the spare bedroom, which was in all honesty not much bigger than a glorified closet (it was _that_ small), into a bedroom for Harry. So on the nights when Remus stayed over, which had become increasingly frequent since he had moved back in with his mother, _he_ _shared_ _Sirius_' _bed_. No matter how many times Sirius told himself that it was _fine_, that it was merely for practical purposes, that he didn't find it even remotely arousing, the little voice in his head would whisper, '_liar'_.

And that little voice was right.

No matter how unwilling Sirius was to admit it. On these nights he often found himself just watching Remus _sleep_. Watching the rise and fall of his still too skinny body. Watching as the moonlight cast shadows over the pale, scared flesh. On these nights Sirius would let himself imagine that he _might_ just be the _slightest_ bit bent for his best mate. For Moony. _Remus_.

And on the nights Remus did not stay over Sirius was left with a cold bed that felt way too big for only one person and the lingering scent of dusty, old books that seemed to be multiplying on every surface in is apartment (he could count fourteen piled neatly beside Remus' side of the bed, which were currently doubling as a bedside table) and ink and chocolate and everything _Remus_ to keep him up.

To give him nightmares.

It was on these nights, when Sirius so keenly felt Remus' absence, like he was missing a limb, that the truth beat him around the back of the head like McGonagall had clocked him one with her unabridged edition of _A Very Long History of Magic; From Merlin to Grindelwald_ (which was 4023 pages thick!).

And the truth was he was quite likely in love with Remus.

In proper _love_ with him.

It was this realisation that caused Sirius so much _grief_, waking him in the early hours of the morning. As it had done for the past eleven days. It was like clockwork.

Sirius groaned. He was so screwed.

He rolled out of bed and rubbed his bleary eyes. He blinked. And he blinked again. _Shit_. He was going back to work today and he couldn't even _see_ straight, he was that exhausted.

"Mad-Eye's gonna murder me," he muttered under his breath as he stumbled out into the kitchen, wearing only pyjama pants that were at least several inches too short at the ankles, which led him to suspect they may actually be Moony's, where he put the kettle on and collapsed into a chair at his table and watched the fireplace.

Minutes ticked by. The kettle boiled. He absentmindedly poured two cups of tea with his wand, he was too lazy to get up, and continued to wait. And wait. And wait.

He checked his watch.

Not long now.

At exactly two minutes past six, a figure emerged from a cloud of green smoke from Sirius' fireplace.

It was Remus. Naturally.

They had come to an agreement of sorts.

As Sirius was to go back to work, he wasn't able to look after Harry during the day. That was where Remus came in. He had offered to mind Harry when Sirius was at work, and act, Sirius supposed, for all intents and purposes, as a pseudo-mother. He didn't dare mention that to Remus though. The man had pride.

He was dressed in as usual, corduroy pants of a nondescript neutral colour, battered old converse sneakers, his fathers leather wrist watch, a thick jumper tucked under his arm and a pale blue shirt that was at least two sizes too big for him, and Sirius realised with growing discomfiture building in his nether regions, that it was actually _his_ shirt.

Remus was wearing his shirt.

That was really...hot.

_Fu-uck_. His pants, which, ironically, were actually Remus', were becoming increasingly tight. He crossed his legs in a desperate attempt to get himself under control.

Dumbledore in swimming trunks. Think of _Dumbledore_ in swimming trunks. Knobbly knees and bunions and wrinkly, saggy bits that should never, ever, ever, _ever_ see the light of day. _Urgh_.

"Morning Padfoot," Remus called, oblivious to his own blatant sex appeal, dusting himself off as he made his way over to Sirius.

He had a sleepy smile gracing his features. His hair was longer now, and it curled a little around his ears. It made him look younger, more innocent. Not in a _perverted_ way. Remus didn't look like a little boy or anything. Sirius wasn't that twisted. Not yet, at least. Remus just looked like he _really_ only was twenty-one; that he hadn't fought a war, that he wasn't torn apart and roughly stitched back together again every single month. He looked _exactly_ like Sirius thought a Remus should. It was kind of cute.

_Oh, for the love of _Merlin. _Dumbledore-in-swimming-trunks. McGonagall-in-lingerie! Dumbledore-in-swimming-trunks. Dumbledore-in-swimming-trunks..._

"Mornin'," Sirius replied, his voice hoarse. Bugger. "I made you a cup of tea." He pointed unnecessarily to the cup opposite his own sitting on the table.

"Cheers," Remus said as he sat down opposite Sirius and cradled the cup in between his hands. They sat there for several moments, both silently drinking tea.

It was their early morning ritual.

Another one of the little quirks in their friendship that none other had been privy to. It had been that way since they were sixteen and moody and so misunderstood. Both had been prone to bouts of insomnia, and it was much easier to welcome the death of night, and any chance of sleep that accompanied it, with an understanding and equally sleep-deprived friend and a good cup of English tea. Sirius' with no milk and two teaspoons of sugar. Remus' with a ridiculous amount of milk and only one sugar.

It was nice to pretend that they were sixteen again. It was _nice_ to pretend that their only troubles were the result of a lack of sleep.

Even if only for a little while. The illusion would fall away soon enough.

They had been just children then. Eager to take on the world, thinking that it was something to conquer, not merely something to survive. Life still held such _mystery_ and _magic_ and dizzying, terrifying, brilliant _possibility_ at sixteen.

Sirius believed no such thing now. Mysteries were overrated. Magic couldn't solve _anything_. Possibility was a cold-hearted bitch.

Apparently his troubled thoughts had managed to work their way onto his features as he felt tea-warmed fingers gently pressing on his arm and Remus' quiet voice asking him...

"Sirius, are you alright?"

He looked to Remus, surprised to note the concern in his eyes, the slight frown, the worrying of his lip. Honestly, one day Remus was going to chew straight through his own lip.

"M'fine." Sirius said dismissively, looking away from his companion and sliding further down in his chair. He wasn't interested in sharing his thoughts. He didn't want to talk about it. He _was_ fine.

"Sirius Black." Remus said, in that _tone_ that always made Sirius think that he would be a brilliant replacement for McGonagall one day, "If I believed that then I'd have to be thicker than a bloody troll's hide."

"Well, what do _you_ want me to say?" Sirius snapped. It was harsher than he intended. But then again, he could never really control himself properly around Remus. He often did things that weren't intended.

"I don't want you to say anything just because I want to hear you say it, Sirius. But I would appreciate it if you didn't lie to me." Remus replied evenly, looking Sirius straight in the eye. It was quite intimidating. "I understand if you don't want to talk to me about it. You know I would never expect you to do that, but I...I don't appreciate being lied to." _I need to know you trust me. Please, just let me know. Its killing me not knowing. _

"M'sorry Moony. It's just..." _I want to be sixteen again. I want to see James and Lily. I want Regulus back. I miss him. Miss them. I miss all of it. The way we were. Young and reckless and so incredibly naive. I want to feel invincible again. I want to fuck you. _"...Bloody hell...it's...It's everything, you know?" _I trust you. But I don't trust myself. _

"Yeah, I know," Remus said softly, as tea-warmed fingers squeezed Sirius' arm reassuringly and made him think that _maybe_, just maybe, Remus knew exactly what he was talking about.

Eventually Sirius realised that he was running insanely late, and scrambled around the flat for his clothes, and for his wand, which had somehow had made its own way underneath the lounge, nestled in between a stick he had drunkenly brought home from a park and the sock puppet James had given him for Christmas a couple of years back, and as he was halfway out the front door he reminded Remus of the time when Harry had his nap and where all the stuff for Harry was, to which Remus had replied, "I know Sirius. I was the one that put it all there, remember."

"Oh." He'd forgotten about that. "Yeah, sorry. Just a bit nervous about leaving him. I guess."

Remus had looked at him with kind, though thoroughly amused eyes and told him gently, "He'll be perfectly safe. I promise. I would never let anything happen to him."

Sirius knew that already. He trusted Remus with Harry more than he trusted _himself_ with Harry.

"Remus, it's not you. Believe me, it not you. Not in the slightest. It's just...I'll _miss_ him," Sirius admitted, embarrassed to sound like such a big girl's blouse. "I got used to having a little ankle biter."

Sirius wasn't kidding. Harry _bit_. Really hard.

"Well, we'll be waiting for you when you get home." Remus said, handing Sirius his Auror badge, where he'd gotten that from was anyones guess. Sirius hadn't seen it for months. But that was Remus for you.

"Thanks, Moony." Sirius said, genuinely touched by the gesture. "For everything."

"You're welcome," Remus replied, leaning against the door jam. A coy smile played across his features. Fuck.

Remus looked utterly _fuckable_.

Merlin, Remus was going to be the death him. Especially when he was horny. Like right now. _McGonagall-in-a-brazilian-bikini. Dumbledore-in-drag. _

_ Snivellus-in-lingerie. _

_ Snivellus-in-lingerie. SNIVELLUS-IN-LINGERIE! _

Disgusting? Yes. Repulsive? Certainly. Horrifying? Oh yeah.

Yet incredibly effective.

"Right," Sirius coughed, disturbed in equal parts by the effect Remus had on his body and by the thought of Snape actually wearing lingerie. He was going to need therapy. "Well...I'll see you tonight, yeah?"

"Of course. Now get. Otherwise Moody'll fire your sorry arse." Remus said practically shoving Sirius out the door.

Sirius had to agree. He was LATE.

Sirius had an eventful morning, to say the least. As soon as he walked into the Auror HQ, Moody literally pounced on him, smacked him on the back of the head for being late, screamed 'Constant Vigilance' several times and ordered him into the _ladies_ bathroom. Alice was having a breakdown, and apparently, it had been decided that Sirius was the most compassionate of the lot, and promptly sent to go comfort her.

It was a truly sad day when the most capable person for handling an emotional witch was _related_ to the person that ruined said witch's life. He had felt as out of place as a troll in a ballet recital as he stepped into the bathroom. It was all shiny and clean and smelled _fruity_ and sweet and feminine. It was pink.

It was _awful_.

However, it wasn't nearly as awful as hearing the sobs of an utterly heartbroken Alice, which were emanating from the last cubicle in the row. He had no idea what to do.

Had no idea how to comfort her. What could he possibly say?

She had lost her husband, but not been granted the finality and closure of his death. She had cruelly been given back a breathing corpse.

Frank's condition had not improved since the attack, in fact he had deteriorated in the last couple of weeks and he had been moved into the Incurable Wing of St Mungo's. That was quite possibly one of the most depressing places Sirius had ever stepped foot in, and he grew up in a family that proudly mounted house-elves on their walls. He and Moony had gone to help Alice and Augusta make Frank more comfortable in his new home.

It had been awful.

Frank Longbottom had been one of the most incredible Aurors Sirius had ever met. He had also been one of he nicest blokes Sirius had ever met. That was not who they had visited at St Mungo's. Frank had no idea who they were, or who Alice or his mother was. He didn't even recognise his own _son_.

Alice had lost her husband. Neville had lost a father. Augusta had lost a son. And though Frank still had a wife, a son and a mother, they were strangers to him. It was impossibly cruel.

What on earth could he say to her?

"Fuck." He muttered, leaning against the sink. He had said it louder than he intended, for Alice heard him.

"W-who...who's there?" A sniffly voice croaked.

"S'me Allie," Sirius said softly. He and Alice were quite good friends, and when he became her partner, he felt a nickname had been an appropriate step forward in their relationship. Alice had stuck with calling him Black.

"Sirius?" Well, that was new. "What the h-hell are y-ou doing in _here_?"

"Moody told me you were in here." Sirius explained. "They're all worried about you out there Allie. Even _Dawlish_. And...and I'm worried too."

"Dawlish?" Alice called out, scepticism clear in her voice. Alice and Dawlish fought like cats and dogs. If it wasn't so stupid half the time it would be bloody hilarious.

"Yeah, he said he had a bone to pick with you."

Alice snorted. Or maybe she was chocking. Sirius couldn't really tell. It sounded awful though. "I'll bet he does."

Sirius heard the lock click and from the cubicle emerged a small little witch in crimson red robes, a kind face, soft blue eyes and mousy brown hair tied back in a messy ponytail. Her eyes were red and puffy and she was shaking all over.

"Oh, Allie. Come here," Sirius said sadly getting up off the counter and walking over to her. Alice practically threw herself at his outstretched arms and buried herself in his chest as he held her whilst she sobbed.

"It's gonna be alright, Allie," he said. He knew it was a lie. Alice knew it was a lie. But her told her anyway and she eagerly accepted it. Sirius tried ignore the fact that everything was as far from alright as it could possibly be, that Alice was suffering terribly.

"It's going to be alright."

She cried even harder. There were tears and snot and _pain_ dripping down the front of his robes. Sirius was out of his depth. "Come on, Alice." He pleaded desperately, "Don't cry. Come on. Please, Allie. He wouldn't want you to be upset. He loves you." As soon as he said it he knew it was the _wrong_ thing to say.

"Rubbish!" She cried out, her tiny fists hitting his chest. "He...He...He doesn't even remember me! He would-dn't kno-w me from _that_ _bitch_."

Sirius knew who she was talking about. _Bellatrix_.

"Alice. Frank loves you more than _anything_." He told her, still holding her tight, stroking her hair, like Remus had told him to do when Harry had had a fever. It was a comfort thing, he had been told. He hoped it worked on Alice too. "He still does. I know it. He might just not be able to show you that."

"Sirius, I miss him so mu-ch," Alice wailed, her breath hitching, _clutching_ him like a lifeline. "I'm s-so scared. I don't think I can do this without him."

"Alice, you're such a brave girl. If anyone can do this it's you." It was true. Alice was a force to be reckoned with. There was a _reason_ why Dawlish was the only one stupid enough to mess with her. She was hard core.

"Thank you," she said, hugging Sirius tight.

"You're welcome. If you ever need a hand, I'm here. And Remus too. You know that don't you?"

That earned him a watery smile and an, "I do. Thank you...Sirius."

Sirius left the bathroom feeling like a _total_ nancy and he wondered if he should ask to borrow Alice's nail-polish and make-up or just go and buy his own, or take up _crocheting_, because he was clearly turning into a bird, and a weepy one at that. Fuck. _Fuck_. Fuckity Fuck.

Sirius spent the rest of the day in his office, catching up on all the paperwork that had accumulated on his desk in his month long absence.

He frequently popped his head into Alice's cubicle, just to make sure she was _alright_. He may have over done it a little. By the fifth time he had done it, Alice had reverted back to calling him _Black_ and threatened to spread a terrible rumour about him and Aberforth's goat if he didn't stop hovering around her like a bloody mother hen. Then she had chased him around the office when he stole her quill. She ended up hexing him.

He didn't mind. As long as she was smiling.

He had done his job.

By the time Sirius got home, though, he was shattered. Like properly, completely broken into millions of tiny pieces shattered. Like he could crawl into bed and never get out again. _Especially if Remus was staying the night_. Merlin. There was something wrong with his _brain_.

He opened the door and kicked off his boots and hung his coat up on the stand, Remus got annoyed if he left it on the floor. "Moony, I'm home," he called out.

No response. _Nothing_. "Remus?" Again, nothing. Hmm.

He walked into the living room and found Remus lying on the lounge, still dressed in Sirius' shirt, though there appeared to be a stain down the front (Sirius guessed it was most likely baby vomit) snoring softly, with Harry, dressed in his pyjamas, resting on his chest. Both were sound asleep. They looked so peaceful. So _right_. His funny little family.

He knelt down beside Remus, and stroked his hair tenderly, he was on a role with the effeminate thing, why stop now? "Remus," he whispered, "wake up."

Remus' eyes fluttered open. He rubbed his eyes and looked to what had woken him up. "Sirius?"

"Hi," Sirius said, his head resting just lightly on Remus' shoulder. It was still ridiculously _pointy_, and Remus was still ridiculously skinny, but not as bad as he had been on Halloween.

"Hi, yourself." Remus yawned. "How was your day?"

Sirius shrugged. "S'alright. Saving the world, you know. The usual," Remus snorted. He seemed unconvinced. "Fine then. Alice broke down this morning and Mad-Eye sent me into the _ladies_ bathroom to look after her. Can you believe it? I've been where no man has ever gone before. It was awful. It was all _pink_!"

Remus didn't seem all that impressed about his foray into the world of women, instead he sighed, muttered something about 'daft dogs' and said, "Poor Alice. Is she alright?"

"Not really. I mean. If that happened to me, I think I wouldn't be coping at all." Actually, Sirius was quite certain that _if_ that had happened to him, if Bellatrix had done to Remus what she had done to Frank, he would just completely self destruct. He wouldn't have been able to look after a baby or deal with a weeping Mrs Lupin or sit for hours in a hospital with a Remus, who wasn't Remus anymore. He wasn't that strong. He wasn't that _good_.

And he hated himself for that.

"Your a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for, you know." Remus said quietly. He wasn't looking at Sirius, but rather down at the little baby nestled on his chest. At _Harry_. At Lily and James' _baby_.

Sirius highly doubted that. He was a Black, first and foremost. That defined him, whether he liked it or not. And it scared the _crap_ out of him. Because he knew he was capable of being every bit as foul and as cruel as his family. Why did Remus not see that? Why did he stay?

"Sirius?" Remus asked when he didn't respond.

Sirius groaned. He didn't want to talk about this now. He was too tired and so over _feeling_. "I'm really tired Moony. Wanna head to bed?"

Remus nodded. "Yeah." He sat up, holding Harry and kissed him on the top of his head. "Do you want to put him to bed?"

"Yeah," Sirius said as he scooped Harry up in his arms, careful not to wake him and carried him into his bedroom. He placed his Godson down in his cot, pulled the blankets up over his tummy and tucked him in. He felt slightly guilty that he hadn't seen Harry all day. He had stayed back at the office late, trying to catch up on all the stuff he missed. He kissed Harry's head gently, pausing to look at the scar on his forehead. He wished desperately that he could take it away. Wished that it wouldn't define Harry as his last name had done for him.

"Good night, Harry." He said softly. "I love you."

Sirius left Harry and walked into his own bedroom, to find Remus already in bed. He quickly changed out of his clothes and into his pyjamas. He crawled under the covers. He was so tired.

Remus rolled over to face him. Sirius was alarmed by the serious look on his face.

"What is it Moony?" He asked quietly.

Remus looked at him with big brown eyes and Sirius felt all funny and weird. It made his toes tingle. It made his heart thump loudly in his chest.

"Do you ever feel like your missing something?" Remus whispers. Sirius can see the fear in Remus' eyes. The pain. The horrible niggling feeling in your chest that tells you that you are so incredibly close to everything you want, everything you need, yet is just out of your reach. He could see it all in Remus' eyes.

He may as well be reaching for the stars.

"Yeah," Sirius told him honestly. "Yeah, I do." _And I'm pretty sure what I'm missing is you._

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_thoughts? Reviews are always appreciated. xox._


	14. Damn Those Merry Hippogriffs

**Damn those Merry Hippogriffs.**

Sirius loved a party. More so than most. More than any sane person, really. And probably more than a few nutter's too. There was something about the claustrophobia and intoxicating dizziness and celebration and inebriation that endeared itself to Sirius. It probably had something to do with the austerity of his childhood. With his, to quote McGonagall, 'Total inability and complete unwillingness to take anything prestigious even remotely seriously'. Yeah, that probably had a whole lot to do with it actually.

What he didn't love, however, were Ministry Parties.

Especially the Department of Magical Law Enforcement _Christmas_ Parties.

He didn't know whether it was the fact that it was really just a compulsory event at the office, disguised in horrifying frilly gowns, under the cover of darkness and shrouded in free grog.

Or whether it was the fact that you just _had_ to be on your best behaviour, because your boss was lurking about waiting for someone to slip up, to be caught snogging someone else's wife - which had happened the past two years, with the same wife, mind.

Or because _nothing_ could prepare Sirius for the sight of seeing Alastor Moody hitting the dance floor, which was truly terrifying indeed.

All in all, it was going to be an altogether shitty night.

And if Sirius really thought about it, he probably hated it even more because scum like Malfoy and his wealthier cronies never failed to make appearances as honoured guests because of their ridiculously large donations. Stupid tossers. Stupid, allegedly _Imperioused_ tossers. What a load of rot. Normally this would send Sirius into a foul mood, but tonight he was other wise occupied.

All that he could really think about at the moment though, was..._Shit_.

Shit. Shit.

Holy Mother of Fucking _Merlin_ shit.

He had stupidly invited Remus along to the Christmas party as his 'date', without a second thought. Of course he would invite Remus.

Who else would he invite? (It was not as though he had noticed he had run into Bertha Jorkins more than normal, or that she smelled any different due to her new perfume, or that she had inquired several times as to who he was taking).

It had seemed so obvious, so _natural_ at the time to invite Moony.

Of course, Sirius was finding himself forgetting very _frequently_ that it was not exactly as natural as he led himself to believe.

Because, despite the fact that Remus had shared his bed more than anyone else ever had, that he had seen Remus naked more times than he could possibly count, that there was currently a drawer in his closet full of Remus' clothes, that he was now very seriously considering asking Remus to move in with him, they were _not_ _together_. Not in the slightest.

Which was a problem. Because since Sirius had realised he was hopelessly in love with Remus, he had been struggling to keep his hands to himself.

He had pushing it the past few weeks; a hand on the small of Remus' back as he passed him in their bedroom, or in the kitchen, or in the hallway, or when Remus was bathing Harry in the bath; turning into Padfoot so he could shamelessly cuddle up to Remus on the lounge; listening to the sappy channels on the wireless so that he had a legitimate reason for twirling Remus around in their kitchen some nights after Harry had been put to bed.

Really, Sirius did anything so that he could touch the other man _more_. Which was so pathetic it was almost funny. Except that it just wasn't. Remus, to his credit, had taken it all in his stride and just gone along with it.

And tonight, Sirius had been forced to shove both his hands into his pockets and think very hard about Snivellus performing lewd acts of unspeakable nature on a _troll_ just so he didn't indecently assault Remus when he walked out of the bedroom.

Because Remus looked good. Really, _really_ good.

_Shit_.

Shit. Shit.

Holy Mother fucking _Merlin_ shit.

He was wearing a plain black muggle suit, nothing special, except for that fact that it was probably the first outfit that Sirius had ever seen Remus wear where everything was _actually_ not too big for him. And it fitted him very nicely indeed. That and the fact that he was also wearing his battered dark purple converse sneakers with a suit, which was so _Remus _that it made Sirius fall even more in love with him.

"Is this alright?" Remus asked, fidgeting around with his tie. He fidgeted a lot when he was nervous.

"Alright?" Sirius said, his voice rather hoarse, "Moony, you're gonna need a stick to beat off all the birds."_...and me._

"Yeah, right," Remus snorted, shaking his head. Sirius did not understand why Remus thought it was so absurd to think he might look good. "Is Harry ready?"

Sirius nodded, glad of something to think of other than how much fun it would be to _undress_ Remus, spying a little tuft of black hair hiding behind the armchair. "Yeah, his bag's all packed. Except, have you seen his-"

"I found his dummy in the toilet...again." Remus sighed, shaking his head. That was the fourth one to fall victim to that same fate. Death by _toilet_. Harry seemed to find it endlessly amusing to throw stuff that he actually needed into the only water source in the flat that was _not_ good for cleaning, much to the ire of Remus.

Sirius couldn't help but grin, that kid was going places. Not necessarily Remus' good books, but places. "His aim's gotten much better, you've got to give him that. Have we got a spare?"

"Mum said we left one there yesterday, so it should be fine." Remus replied, busily rummaging through draws. "Did you want to take him now?"

"Yeah." Sirius said as he hopped up off the lounge and crept over to the armchair.

Peering over the top, he discovered Harry, a stuffed hippogriff and the blanket Lily had knitted, cuddled close to his chest. Seeing as Harry was not yet walking on his own, and relied on strategically placed furniture to get from A to B, this was quite an achievement. "Hey, kiddo," Sirius said, picking Harry up, hippogriff and blanket and all. "You ready to see grandma?"

Harry smiled widely and clopped Sirius in the head with his toy, which Sirius interpreted as, 'Hell yes, Grandma's way cooler than you two boring old codgers.'

"Let's go say bye-bye to Moony, then. Can you say _Moony_, Harry?"

"Mummy," Harry said quite clearly, obviously proud of his mastery over the English language.

Sirius' heart sank. Harry had spoken his first word exactly one week ago. It was 'mummy'.

It had been to Remus. Who was certainly _not_ his mother. They had apparently failed to convey that to Harry though.

"Yeah, Harry. Let's go say bye-bye to Mummy." Sirius said sadly, trying very hard not to think about Lily, and whether or not she would be cold right now, buried underneath all the snow and the ice of the cruel December weather and having lost the most precious title she had ever possessed - mother.

He walked into the bedroom, where Remus was still rummaging around for something. "Moony, you've got a visitor."

Remus turned towards the door and walked over to Sirius and Harry.

"Hey Harry." He murmured softly as he took Harry from Sirius, and held him tightly. Harry took the opportunity to latch hold of Remus' collar and wipe dribble across Remus' shirt. "You be a good boy for Grandma," he said, tapping Harry gently on the nose. "I love you."

Sirius counted his lucky stars that Harry did not say anything, instead he gave Remus a very sloppy kissed and tugged on a lock of hair that had fallen across Remus' eyes. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes," Sirius said to Remus as he took Harry back.

He picked up Harry's bag and flooed over to Mrs Lupin's, who was minding him for the night. Remus and Sirius were spending the night there too, but not until much later.

Mrs Lupin was delighted to see her unofficial grandson after having gone a full day without seeing him and practically booted Sirius back into the fireplace faster than you could say, 'quidditch'.

Which let Sirius rather disoriented when he arrived back at home. He crawled onto the lounge and closed his eyes, incredibly dizzy.

"You alright, Padfoot?" Remus asked. Sirius opened an eye and realised he was standing right over him.

"Your mother is insane." Sirius stated, sitting up, and fixing his tie. He knew that wouldn't offend Remus, he knew Sirius loved is mum.

"I told you." Remus said, sounding like he had just told him that he would get detention for hexing the seventh year Slytherin boys knickers all pink. Which had happened and he _had_ gotten a detention, and Remus had very indulgently told him exactly the same thing. "She's just sneaky about it."

"Right. Well, we better go."

"Yeah. Merlin, we're late!"

They managed to make it only a couple of minutes late, which was as early as Sirius had ever gotten to a Ministry Christmas party.

The Ministry was richly decorated with giant Christmas trees lining the corridors, the pixies wearing Father Christmas hats decorating the trees were blowing raspberries and throwing little pieces of tinsel as any idiot who got too close to them. It was quite entertaining. Sirius couldn't help but feel slightly giddy as he watched Remus laugh unashamedly at a tubby wizard from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad getting pelted in the rear with a whole branch that the pixies had pulled from one tree.

Though they left quickly when he caught them laughing at him.

When they arrived on the second floor, Sirius made the obligatory rounds, saying hello to everybody important and introducing Remus to those who hadn't met him. Then once all the social niceties had been completed, he and Remus had gone off in search of Alice.

It had taken Sirius the better part of a month to convince her to come.

She had not wanted to come without Frank. Sirius couldn't blame her. But at the same time he hadn't wanted her to spend the night in hospital with Frank and Augusta either. She deserved to have some fun.

It didn't take to long.

Standing beside Molly Weasley, who was dressed in a brightly patched dress robe, was Alice.

She looked lovely.

Her hair was out and cascaded over her shoulders in soft curls, her eyes were lively and she was wearing a black dress which, Sirius noted with a sting of overprotectiveness, had caught the attention of several men in the room.

She smiled when she saw them.

"Hello boys!" She called as she threw her arms around Sirius' neck, and then did the same to Remus, who was slightly taken aback by the outburst of affection.

"Hello Alice," Remus said weakly. She appeared to have squeezed the life out of him. Sirius, concerned, placed his hand on Remus' back. Remus leaned gently into his side.

"Hey Alice, you look beautiful." Sirius said, waggling his eyebrows. Alice punched him in the shoulder.

"You shut your mouth, Black." She ordered. Sirius felt obliged to do so, "I feel absolutely ridiculous!" she said, flinging her arms up in the air.

"Well you certainly don't look it." Remus said pleasantly. "How's Neville?"

Alice light up, ridiculous outfits instantly forgotten, "Oh he's doing _wonderfully_." She said proudly, "He's just started walking, it's wonderful. And he's talking a bit too. Nothing really coherent, but it's an improvement from the incessant babble at least. And Frank...Frank can play with him more now that he can get around two feet. It really it wonderful." She added sadly. "How's your little one?"

"He's good," Sirius said. "Not walking yet, but he's getting close." Sirius didn't mention that he had started to talk. He wasn't ready to share that yet. And he was certain Remus wouldn't appreciate it.

"Well it shouldn't be too much longer then." Alice said reassuringly, though Sirius hadn't been worried. He appreciated the gesture though. "Merlin, I can't believe how fast they are growing up. Can you?"

"No," Remus said. Sirius agreed. The thought of Harry growing up genuinely scared him. His future was so uncertain still. He contented himself with the knowledge that Harry was safe now, and they could work from here.

The night wore on, and Sirius eventually managed to coax Remus onto the dance floor. It had taken the better part of _two_ hours to do so.

It was so worth it though.

Especially when they band changed to slow dances, and Sirius managed to persuade Remus to take one turn about the room with him, which ended up being about seven. It was brilliant.

It was silly and it was fun and nobody else cared that the two of them were dancing around the room like idiots because it was a Christmas Party and everybody was acting like an idiot.

"Sirius, as fun as waltzing around the room with you is, I think I need a break." Remus had panted eventually. His face was flushed and his chest was heaving. Sirius realised his was too.

"Yeah, same here." Sirius said, "Wanna go outside?"

Remus nodded and followed Sirius out of the party and into one of the deserted corridors. They walked in companionable silence until they reached a point far enough away that the vibrations of the masses of people dancing couldn't be felt through the floor.

They sank down to the ground, underneath an archway, hidden behind two Christmas trees. The pixies seemed to have deserted the trees, preferring the ones down beside the floo network, where they had the chance to _pounce_ on unsuspecting visitors. Nasty little creatures.

Remus had his head resting on Sirius' shoulder. It was nice. Peaceful. Just him and Moony and...

"Mistletoe." Remus said, breaking the silence.

Sirius thought he had heard him wrong. "What?"

Remus pointed up above their heads. Indeed, above the archway was a piece of Mistletoe. Sirius heart rate sped up. What did that mean? What did Remus expect to happen? What was Sirius supposed to do? If it had been a bird, Sirius would have kissed her already and been done with it. But this wasn't some bird. This was _Remus_. And he didn't want to fuck this up.

"Yeah," Sirius said uncertainly. "What about it?"

"Nothing 's just...it's Mistletoe, you know."

No. Sirius did not know. He didn't know at all. But he figured that seeing as his chances of ever getting to kiss Remus ever again were virtually non-existent, he bent his head down to Remus', who lifted his head up and looked at Sirius questioningly. As it he was curious as to whether Sirius was game enough to or not.

Well, Sirius was game.

He lent down that little way further and kissed Remus chastely. He lingered more than was really acceptable when it came to kissing friends, but Remus didn't move away either so he figured it was okay.

"_Moony_..." Sirius heard himself purr as Remus looked as him in that way _only_ he could, that made Sirius feel like Remus was capable of seeing though him. That made Sirius think for the briefest of moments that maybe Remus felt something too. That Sirius wasn't the only one who felt like the world had flipped upside down.

Because he had kissed Remus.

And it was _brilliant_.

Sirius realised how _close_ they were still. How Remus' warm breath was mingling with his own. How little effort it would take to kiss him again. How the look in Remus' eyes was one of _want_. Of desire. Sirius knew the same things were shining down in his own, as at that moment, he wanted Remus more than anything.

"_Sirius_-" Remus whispered, barely louder than a breath as their lips touched a second time, but he never got the chance to finish, as at that exact moment, a voice echoed down the corridor.

"Remus? Black? Are you there?"

Like the flick of a wand, the illusion was gone.

The enchantment broken.

Remus withdrew from Sirius' touch like he had been burned. Sirius tried to ignore the hurt that caused him and instead called back to the fast appearing figure of Alice. "Yeah, we - we're here."

Sirius hastily stood up and went to greet her, Remus lagging behind him. Sirius chatted animatedly to Alice about the arrest Moody had told him about involving three hags and a bottle of firewhiskey. Sirius tried his best to _ignore_ the tightness in his chest or the heavy feeling in his stomach as he watched as Remus made his way over to talk to Molly and Arthur Weasley.

Alice nudged him in the ribs. "Did you and Remus have a fight?"

"What? No. It's not that." Because it wasn't. Not really. Sirius sighed. "It's complicated."

"Well, just think of the make up sex," She said plainly. "Puts everything in perspective."

"_What_? Alice, what are you talking about?" Sirius spluttered. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. Not from embarrassment, though, which would have been an acceptable reaction. But from the thought of having make up _sex_ with Remus.

Oh Fuck. _McGonagall-in-a-brazilian-bikini. _

_ Dumbledore-in-drag. _

_ Snape-in-lingerie._

"Sorry, I guess that was a bit insensitive, prying into your relationship." Alice said, a cheeky grin on her face. "But come on, he'd be a good shag, yeah?"

"I wouldn't know." Sirius told her through gritted teeth, forcing the notion of shagging Remus out of his mind. "We're not together."

"Really? Well, not yet, anyway." Alice said, in a way that reminded Sirius of Dumbledore. "I don't mind, you know. That you're in love with another man." Sirius just wanted to _die_ as she placed an understanding hand on his arm. Somewhere, James Potter was laughing his arse off at this, Sirius was sure of it.

"Please, Alice. Just drop it, alright?"

"Okay. Okay. I'm sorry," she said before walking away, leaving Sirius alone with his thoughts.

He really _hated_ Christmas Parties.

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I hope you found this chapter alright. Reviews are always welcome, especially it there is something you think I should fix! BlackReaver. xox


	15. Oh Come All Ye Faithful

**Oh Come all Ye Faithful. **

Christmas morning was a silent, pleasant and peaceful event in the Lupin household. Or at least it had been, until Mrs Lupin had a spectacularly awful lapse in judgement and invited Sirius Black into her home very late on Christmas Eve. Really, she had no idea what she had been thinking. It was her own fault.

She knew the boy well enough to have known better.

Yet, here she was.

Five o'clock on Christmas morning, fretting about what on _earth_ had happened last night to cause the terrific mess of tempers and shouting and magically enhanced, alcohol-induced boyishness which tumbled out of her fireplace at exactly five to midnight.

She had been asleep, tucked up all nice and cosy in her bed, with Harry set up in a cot beside her, when a loud shout had roused her from her dreams. She had hastily gotten out of bed, slipped on her well-worn slippers and tip-toed across her bedroom and silently opened her door, all the while angry words were being hurled back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. She slipped out quietly and ducked her head out into the hallway. She could see the shadows of Remus and Sirius along the wall opposite the sitting room. Remus was pacing, a sure sign of agitation.

Oh dear.

"...You...You infuriating git!" she heard her son shout. _Language, Remus_, she silently admonished. "Of all the _stupid_ pranks you could have pulled, you had to do _that_, didn't you!"

"_I'm_ the infuriating one? That's laying it on a bit thick, don't you think, Moony?" Sirius shouted back, his voice echoing through the cold, and otherwise silent house.

"What are you talking about? I'm not the one who set a whole swarm of pixies flourishing _pine_ _needles_ as makeshift swords on my cousin, Sirius." Oh for the love of God, Mrs Lupin thought, that boy knew how cause a ruckus. "Nor was I the one to set Malfoy's dress robes on fire - don't look at me like you don't _know_ what I'm talking about," Remus snapped. "I know it was you."

"Well, congratulations." Sirius said, sarcasm dripping from his every breath. It sounded horrible. It was a terrible reminder of what Sirius so easily could have been. What his family still were. "You got me. What do you want? A medal? How about a kiss?"

Mrs Lupin waited for the rebuttal from her son that would surely make her want to whack him some manners, but it never came.

There was no sound. Nothing.

Just silence. Awful, sharp, painful silence. She wondered what on earth was _happening_.

And then...

"There's blankets in the cupboard at the end of the hall." Remus said quietly, sounding terribly hurt. Broken. "Happy Christmas, Sirius."

"Remus-"

"Good _night_." Remus had said sharply, cutting Sirius off. Mrs Lupin then heard Remus storm up the stairs and slam his door. She thought about going out to Sirius and helping him set up the couch, but as she watched his shadow morph before her very eyes she figured that he wasn't planning on using the couch at all.

Or at least she hoped not. Dog fur was terribly difficult to get rid off, and hard to explain away to her friend's when it was well known that the Lupin's did not own a dog.

Reluctantly, she had gone back to bed and tried to get some rest. She achieved very little, and by five she had had enough.

She got up again and dressed, made sure Harry was still sound asleep and paddled out into the kitchen. She made herself a cup of tea and watched as the snow fell on her back garden. It was quite a beautiful sight. Peaceful.

How Christmas _ought_ to be.

The argument from the night before poked at the very _edge_ of her conscience, but she tried to force it away. It did no good to dwell on the past.

So she contended herself with thinking of ancient history. Her own.

She continued to watch the snow fall down from the heavens as she sipped her tea, remembering past Christmas mornings; the first she had shared with her husband, when she had given him the news she was expecting their first child; the last she had shared with her daughter, who had been _so_ overjoyed with her new coat and little kitten; the following year when she and John had not celebrated Christmas with any child, only her swollen belly and painful memories of their lost little girl, and many other Christmases since, when a large black blur passed her field of vision.

It startled her.

It took a moment for her to realise exactly what _it_ was.

She turned just in time to see a black dog leaping up the staircase and open the door easily with his giant paw, before disappearing into Remus' bedroom. Mrs Lupin still found the whole notion of people turning into animal's slightly disconcerting, though you would have expected her to be past being phased by such matters, her son was a werewolf, after all.

She knew she ought to leave them be, they were adults, more than capable of sorting things out between themselves and having no need of nosy mothers, but her curiosity got the better of her and she found herself climbing the stairs, past all of the photographs lining the walls, and up to her son's bedroom.

She peeked around the door ever so slightly so that she could just see inside. Her son was sitting at his window seat, piled high with too many books on its shelves, dressed in pyjamas that were too big for him, looking out into the white wilderness, a large mass of black fur spread over his legs. He was stroking Sirius' head softly, scratching behind his ears absentmindedly, like he wasn't even aware he was doing so.

Like it was as natural as breathing.

"Is this an apology, Padfoot?" She heard him murmur, a slight smile playing across his face. The great dog lifted his head to face Remus, and snorted, loudly. Exactly like Sirius would have done it had he been human at the time.

And as arrogant as the gesture was, she knew it was an apology.

Remus laughed, and patted him on the head. "I'm sorry too," he added quietly. "For...you know. I didn't even think, really. It was just there. And you were there, and I thought of that time when Wormtail - oh come on, don't look at me like that," Remus said as Sirius snarled at the mention of that name, "Fine then, when he-who-shall-not-be-named-either got stuck under it with Avery in fifth year. And you wouldn't let either of them leave until they'd done it. I can't believe you managed that, I mean, it was _Avery_." Sirius' tail was wagging, he seemed to find it amusing too. "But I...I didn't mean...I'm _sorry_."

Mrs Lupin had absolutely no idea what they were talking about, and it was too early in the morning for her to try to guess, but the remorse on Remus' face made her heart sink. He looked so guilty and sad.

The dog whined.

He looked a pitiful creature indeed.

Then before her very eyes, the dog turned into Sirius, with a serious expression and an intense gaze focused on her son. "Don't be sorry, Remus. It wasn't your fault," he said quietly, now sitting beside Remus. "It's not like it meant anything, anyway," he added, looking away from Remus. By the look on Sirius' face, she doubted that very much. Apparently it meant a whole lot to Sirius, regardless of what he said.

But Remus believed him, she could see it. As clear as day. The briefest look of hurt flitted across his features before Remus regained his composure, his feelings unknowable to her once more.

_Honestly, that child is as emotionally competent as a rock._

She watched as they sat there, not talking, not really doing anything but simply being together, the last of their friends, the last remnant of each others childhood looking them straight in the eye.

There was such tenderness held in that moment between them that it made Mrs Lupin's heart go all fluttery. All excited and nervous and happy. Not at all peaceful and quiet. Well, that _was_ to be expected when Sirius was in the room, after all. He seemed to be unable to coexist with _peace_.

She had already gone through this.

"Happy Christmas, Padfoot," Remus said, looking up at Sirius through his hair that hung over his eyes. Shyly. _Affectionately_. It surprised his mother greatly. She knew her son to be quiet and reserved, but not _shy_. Not to his friends, and not to Sirius especially.

It unnerved her, though she could not exactly understand why.

Sirius smiled, not his usual grin, which had the ability to make any young ladies in the immediate area _swoon_, but a genuinely happy smile, one that was ever so slightly crooked and that made his eyes twinkle, which in Mrs Lupin's opinion was lovelier, and he said softly, "Happy Christmas, Remus."

She was unnerved more still when she heard the reverence held in Sirius' voice as he said her son's name. Heard the _love_ in his voice. Wait...love? Oh, for the love of God. Love!

She gasped as the reality struck her.

Sirius Black was _in_ love with her baby. With Remus.

Her _son_.

And she realised what had unnerved her before. It had been the way Remus had _looked_ at Sirius. It had been the same way John had looked at her when they had been young and silly and hopelessly in love. It hit her rather suddenly that there was a very good chance that Sirius' feelings were mutual.

Good Lord, she was never going to have a peaceful Christmas ever _again_. Not with Sirius Black in the family.

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Only a short chapter. Sorry. I hope you enjoyed it. I think I may be going on a short break for a short while, as I have about a million assessments due in the next couple of weeks, but I promise you I will update as soon as I can!

BlackReaver. xox.


	16. Where Dwell the Brave at Heart

****Hi. Here is my next chapter. obviously. sorry. I would just like to take the opportunity to thank my lovely new beta-reader AshleyTangerine, because she is awesome and has been such a help with getting my head wrapped around this fic!

Anyway ... hope you enjoy!

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**Where Dwell the Brave at Heart.**

Sirius very rarely let himself think on how fucked up his life was. Because honestly, it was just way to depressing. His life, up until now had been rather shit. And if he really wanted to get properly depressed, he would probably also note that even now, as he sat on the lounge, with a little godson playing contentedly with his new gifts on his lap, even as he sat not two inches away from what probably was the love of his life, he was still incredibly fucked up.

Just all round fuckery.

He had run away from home at sixteen. After an entire childhood, an entire lifetime, in a house filled with black magic and evil lurking in every nook and cranny; which was the stuff of nightmares and would have fit in perfectly with those horror films muggles seemed to love. He still wondered how he had stayed sane during his time there, but then he remembered things like 'the prank' and realised he probably hadn't been entirely sane after all. Not in those last years, anyway.

Then there was the matter of his little brother being dead. Murdered at eighteen. Sirius had failed to protect the one person in his family that he had truly loved, that he had sworn to protect.

He had tried, Merlin knows he had.

How many times had he taken the blame for a smashed china cup, or for tracking mud all through the house, or for spilling mother's potions when trying to reach for a chocolate mint biscuit (which Sirius didn't even like, not that mother would have noticed, or cared), or for accidentally setting Aunt Druella's robes on fire? Or what about the time he got slapped across the face (in front of the entire Black family) by his mother for saying that it was he that had sent the house-elves to play in the nursery? How many times had he helped Regulus change into clean pyjama's and secretly deliver the wet bedsheets to the house-elves so that mother wouldn't scream and rage and rant at her littlest son who was 'too old' for such infantile nonsense?

_But it hadn't been enough, had it?_

And then there was James and Lily … and Wormtail … and Remus. How had he gotten that so wrong? How were James and Lily dead? It still didn't seem real. If it wasn't for the constant presence of Harry in their lives, Sirius doubted he would have been able to accept all that had happened. Not at all.

He often caught himself as he was halfway through a "Cor, wait till James hears this," or a "That's brilliant! Prongs will love that," or even a "Lily will murder you if she sees you letting Harry crawl 'round in the buff."

But the words usually died in his throat as reality hit him hard and then Moony would just look at him sadly, with his big brown eyes full of understanding and pain and self-loathing and Sirius would know that he was hurting too.

And Peter? How had that happened? How had they missed it?

Missed the rat?

Cause really, could it have been more obvious? Probably not. He didn't really want to think about it. What was the point? The bastard was dead. Bellatrix had made sure of that. Well, at least she was good for something, in the end.

Kind of. Shut up, Black.

Okay. Okay.

And then there was Remus.

Fuck.

Where did he even begin? Well, there was that one time when he nearly destroyed Remus' life and damn near made him a murderer. Oh, and that time when he thought Remus was working for Voldemort and ended up killing two of his best friends. How about that? There was also that itty bitty issue of Sirius being so in love with him that it was just ridiculous. Pathetic. _Sick_.

He ought to hate Remus for making him feel this way.

But as Sirius watched Remus, curled up beside him, his legs tucked under his body, an old book coming to life between his fingers, he found he couldn't bring himself to resent the feelings the other young man evoked in him, he loved Remus too much to do so. The irony was not lost on him. _Hardy Ha Ha_.

Sirius noted with irrational joy bubbling up inside his chest that the book was actually the one he had given to Remus for his eleventh birthday. It was Tiberius Nifflehopper's, _'Magical Mischievousness for the Young Witch or Wizard or Chronically Immature Warlock: A Comprehensive and Illustrated Guide'_. He watched contentedly as Remus' slender fingers turned the pages of the yellowed, worn and sticky-taped-together-on-at-least-nine-separate-occasions paperback with careful precision, so as not to cause any more damage to the mere corpse of a book.

It had been idolised to death. Poor thing.

That book, currently sporting more tape than it did paper, had been their mentor at Hogwarts; guiding them through their earliest pranks, forging a tentative relationship between boy and book; sharing its secrets and imparting its wisdom on how best to go about charming undergarments to run away from their owners and a whole chapter of other little bits of cheekiness involving knickers; then as they got bolder and as they surpassed the devilishness and ingenuity of the Guide's own pranks, it had proved an invaluable accomplice and provided them with the best means of escape.

Sirius watched as Remus' eyes flickered over the familiar and comforting pages. He looked so … Sirius couldn't remember how to describe it. It was an old, familiar thing.

A _feeling_. One he hadn't felt nor seen in years. Not since Hogwarts. It wasn't really happy or cheerful or anything like that. It was this sort of … being all awful and crazy and safe, all at the same time. It was right _there_, that feeling, taunting him, at the very back of his mind.

_Remember Black!_

Oh. _Oh_. He remembered.

Of course he did. How had he forgotten? Idiot. Sirius knew what Remus was feeling at that moment and he could describe it perfectly, because he felt it too.

It was like coming home.

How many times had they done this? How many times had he lounged beside Remus, who was dressed in a too-big jumper, and looked through these mangy old pages? How many times had they hidden away from the world that really was just too cruel to the both of them, and lost themselves completely in daring plots and wicked schemes and the silly childishness of it all? Too many times. But not enough, either. He couldn't explain it.

He didn't need to.

He watched as Remus let a small chuckle escape his lips as he ever so slightly shook his head, before flicking to a new page. That piqued Sirius' interest. What had he remembered?

"Something funny, Moony?" he asked, nudging Remus with his foot.

Remus looked up at him through his hair that just flopped over his eyes and grinned. He said nothing but flipped back a page and turned the book around so that Sirius could see the page. The title read, _'Prank No. 1874 - Enchanted Christmas Decorations: Or How to Effectively Infuriate a Mother'_.

The word 'mother' had been crossed out and instead replaced by - with what Sirius recognised to be his own fanciful scrawl - _'McGonagall, my love!'_

The title did not lie.

Their Head of House had given the four of them a whole week's worth of detentions during Christmas holidays for that particular prank. Personally, Sirius had thought it was a bit harsh; it wasn't like the waltzing Christmas trees had hurt anybody ... except for that one that fell on top of Snape when Peter tried to make it do the cha-cha slide. That one may have hurt, considering Snivellus spent Christmas day in the Hospital Wing with a broken nose and two black eyes. Oops.

Not.

"Merlin! I forgot about that." Sirius exclaimed, memories whirling around the very edges of his conscience, blurry and soft, like old photographs. "What year did we do that? Third?"

"Fourth - oh, Harry! You mustn't do that." Remus said in a calm but strained voice, looking remorsefully down at the pages Harry had just snatched up in his little hand and ripped away from the spine. Remus just gave a defeated sighed and carefully plucked the now completely loose pages from Harry's little fingers and placed them back inside the front cover, casting them a sorrowful glance before shutting the book closed with a loud _snap_.

"Dad was furious," Remus added softly, taking Harry off Sirius and placing him on his knees. "He wrote a three page letter about how disappointed he was, and how I should be ashamed of myself."

Remus let out a hollow laugh and Sirius felt completely out of his depth.

"Remus..."

Sirius didn't know what to say. Remus never talked about his dad. He never talked about a lot of things, but this topic was different. This one _hurt_. This one couldn't get fixed.

The last thing Remus had told his father was that he _hated_ him. That he blamed his father for _everything_.

And Sirius knew it tortured him. Especially on days like this, days like Christmas. Because Mr. Lupin really should be here still. No ones heart should just stop.

"I think he was just worried," Remus continued, whether he heard him speak or not Sirius did not know, but it was best not to interrupt, "that I would end up drawing too much attention to myself, eventually, and then because someone would _suddenly_ know my name they would just have to figure out I was a werewolf."

Sirius couldn't stop the cringe as Remus spat the last word. _Werewolf._

It always came back to that.

"Don't say it like that," Sirius couldn't help but snap. "Don't. I hate it when you do that." He really did.

Remus looked taken aback. "Sirius-"

He was cut off though, by a sharp rap at the window. Sirius looked to see a miserable grey owl sitting on the window sill. Thank Merlin, talk about good timing. Conversations about Remus' condition usually led to rather spectacular shouting matches. And even more spectacular were the bouts of accidental magic on Sirius' part; most wizarding folk outgrew this phase when they began formal training and learned how to control their magic, but not him. It had only gotten worse over time. Exploding vases were not an uncommon occurrence. When he had lived with the Potter's it took less than one week for Mrs Potter to replace all her beautiful antique vases with lurid, cheap, plastic ones.

"Is that Alice's owl?" Remus asked, lycanthropy forgotten for the moment, as he watched the rather scrawny looking bird. It looked miserable, all wet and shivering on the window sill.

"Yeah." Sirius muttered, brows furrowed. "Yeah, it is."

He hopped up off of the lounge and walked over to the now screeching owl, trying to figure out what exactly Alice could be sending him. They weren't in the habit of giving Christmas presents to one another.

"What have you got for me?" He asked the ruffled and weather-worn bird, as he undid the twine around its leg connecting it to a parcel wrapped up in plain brown paper. Hmm. He untied the twine and carelessly chucked the paper to the floor. As soon as he realised what he held in his palm he wished he hadn't.

In his hand was a black dog collar. It was leather.

It was _studded_.

"Bloody hell!" he cried out. That woman was an absolute menace.

"What is it, Padfoot?" Remus asked from his spot on the lounge. Harry was too busy to notice the terrible present, he was happily babbling away to the picture frame on the table in beside him. Mr. Lupin did not appear to be very happy about having a picture frame full of excitable baby gawping at him.

Sirius shook his head at that odd image and turned to face Remus and moaned, "That bloody woman bought me a bloody dog collar!"

"Let's see it then," Remus said grinning, as he held out his arms and indicated Sirius throw it over to him. Sirius did so automatically. Unthinkingly.

Stupidly.

He didn't realise his mistake until Remus made a funny little noise as he examined the gift, a bit like a yelp, but more stricken. Oh fuck. In Remus' hands was the tag. Sirius hadn't even thought to look at it. The pink tinge of Remus' cheeks suggested he ought to have, though.

"What does it say?" He asked. He dreaded the answer, already. He really didn't want to know. But he had to. Remus looked at him with a peculiar expression, and shook his head very slightly. Great, Remus was speechless. Fucking brilliant.

He was going to positively murder Alice.

Sirius walked back over to Remus, who was still nursing an oblivious Harry on his lap, and yanked the collar from his hand. He grabbed the tag roughly and, glaring at the offending object, read the label.

It had 'Moony' inscribed on the front.

Moony. Just Moony.

What was wrong with that?

Oh, Holy shit.

_Moony_! She'd bought him a dog collar for Remus! Shit. _Shit_. Shit.

Remus, who had a lovely shade of puce blotched rather violently across his cheeks, managed to spit out two very little words. "Flip" and "it."

So he did. _Fuck_.

"Property of Sirius Black," he read aloud, much to his own surprise. Oh no, she hadn't. She _couldn't_ have done that. She just couldn't.

But she _had_.

It was there. Resting in his palm. _Property of Sirius Black - Property of Sirius Black - Property of … oh, Alice … did she know how much he wished that was true?_

"Fuck."

"Is there some sort of joke I'm missing?" Remus asked, setting Harry down on the floor beside him. Harry pouted and cast a surprisingly dirty look at Remus, though he didn't appear to have noticed. He looked embarrassed and to be honest a little hurt. Sirius could only imagine that he was thinking about last night, thinking about the mistletoe. Thinking that he had somehow been tricked. _Oh, Moony._

Sirius could only look at Remus helplessly. What was there to say? Certainly not the truth. "Well, it's kind of … you see, um … Alice has the wrong idea … about us … sort of." Oh, brilliant. That was brilliant, Black.

"Us?" Remus asked, apparently unimpressed buy Sirius' spectacular oratory skills.

"She - she, uh, kind of thought we were together." Sirius couldn't help but cringe as he forced the words out. He carded his hand nervously through his hair.

Shit. Shit. Fucking shit.

"Oh." Remus said, frowning. Sirius watched as something clicked in Remus' mind. "Wait. You mean as in … _oh!_" he exclaimed as his mouth formed a perfect 'o' and his eyebrows completely disappeared underneath his hair that constantly fell in his eyes.

Yes, _oh,_ indeed.

Sirius felt the heat rising in his cheeks. He looked away from Remus, fearful of how the other man would react to that. He didn't know whether it would be worse if Remus was disgusted by the idea or if he laughed. Both would hurt.

Remus laughed softly, but it didn't sound at all like Sirius expected. It didn't sound like Remus' laugh when he found something ridiculous or absurd, it sounded like his laugh when he was genuinely amused. But that couldn't be right, could it? What straight bloke thought it was _funny_ that people thought he liked it up the arse? Well, Remus did, apparently.

_You always knew he was a bit odd,_ that voice that was sounded like his mother told him, _he had to be odd to tolerate you and your demented friends._

_Shut up,_ he shot back in his head.

"I don't suppose you told her we regularly sleep together, did you?" Remus asked, a mischievous look spreading across his features. Sirius tried very hard not to react to the rather erotic images smashing their way through his mind. Merlin, he was so fucked. "I imagine that would mislead most people, Padfoot."

"Of course not." Sirius protested. "Would I ever besmirch your character so horrendously as to suggest you partake in such wickedness as fornication?" he asked, sounding wounded, like a valiant knight trying to win over a stubborn damsel. Remus scoffed and quirked an eyebrow. This damsel was not budging. He was going to have to work for this. "You wound me, Remus. How could you think I would propagate such lies? Do you believe I have no honour?"

"I know for a fact that you have none. I'm surprised such a word is exists in your vocabulary." Sirius tried his best to look scandalised, but Remus merely rolled his eyes and continued. "You made an announcement to the entire school when Peter got his first snog. If I remember correctly there were fireworks and a marching band of excitable first years." Slytherin undergarments had also been involved in that particular incident, but Sirius dared not remind Remus of that. "And I know you were the one to start that rumour about Slughorn and the Giant squid-" Sirius made to protest but Remus clamped his hand over his mouth, "-and don't try to deny it. I have proof. I found your list last week."

Uh oh.

At the beginning of sixth year, Sirius had written a list titled, _'The List of Things to do to Filch and/or other unfortunate faculty member before summer holidays! (Potter wrack off and make your own bloody list - Wormtail go find a girl, your right hand is looking a little worse for wear and for the love of Merlin learn how to cast a proper silencing charm, would you! I can't listen to anymore of your wank fantasies about that Holyhead Harpies seeker! Yes, I know she has a lovely rack, but I don't want to hear what you reckon she would think of your sexual prowess. You see that? _Prowess. P. R.O.W.E.S.S._ Not _powers_. NEVER speak of sexual powers EVER again - Remus Lupin do not confiscate this list of magnificence or I will nick your Prefect badge and eat your shoes!)'_.

It was quite wordy, and the acronym was positively atrocious, so Sirius just thought of it as 'The List'. He had kept it as a memento of their school days, he was a secret sentimentalist, though he thought he'd left it in his school trunk. That had been private, that had.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Sirius attempted to say, but considering Remus still had his hand over his mouth, he wasn't too successful. Remus just smiled at him. All smug and right. Damn it. He really had found it. Stupid Prefect. The nerve!

Well, Sirius wasn't going to let him get away with it that easily.

"What are you - oh, no. Don't you even think - Black - Oomph!" Remus cried out as Sirius wrestled him off the lounge and dragged him onto the floor. Sirius landed on top of Remus, and rather effectively pinned the other man beneath him. Remus struggled against Sirius, complaining all the while that his immaturity level had reached an all time high. Sirius merely grinned devilishly and Remus swore loudly as he began to get tickled, to which a shocked Mrs. Lupin called out from the kitchen, "Remus! Mind your language, young man!".

But Remus paid no notice of her, he was otherwise occupied.

"No! S - Sirius. Sto - stop. Now!"

"No." Sirius said as he pinned Remus' hands above his head, holding both still-too-skinny wrists in his left hand, his free hand covering Remus' mouth. "I don't think I will, I'm rather enjoying this, aren't you, Harry?" He said as he turned to look at his little godson.

"Mmph!" Remus sounded.

Harry on the other hand, did not appear to really care about any of this foolishness and was not at all happy about being cast aside, so he crawled over to the pile of limbs lying in the middle of the living room and sat down beside Remus' head.

Peering down at the captive on the floor, Harry placed his two little hands on the side of Remus' face and called loudly, "Mummy. Mummy. Mum-mum, up!"

Sirius looked down at Remus, who was currently sporting a torn expression. Harry's insistence on calling Moony 'Mummy' was not something that they supported; not only would it confuse the kid when he got a bit older but Sirius knew it was tormenting Remus because he felt that he was betraying the Potter's, that it denied Lily the chance to be her son's mother, yet Sirius knew his heart melted a little bit more every time Harry called out for him.

Sirius became aware of brown eyes looking up at him. Trying to get his attention. _Sirius, not that it's that important, but you are currently crushing me, _the eyes said. _And Harry wants our attention._

Sirius became aware of himself then. Aware of the fact he still had a hand over Remus' mouth. Aware of the fact that he was _straddling_ Remus' hips.

He removed his hand and slid off Remus, sitting down next to him on the rug and muttered, "Sorry."

Remus propped himself up by his by his elbows and smiled at the baby, "What are you up to, Harry?" _Please don't look to me for a nappy change. It's Sirius' turn, lad_.

_Gee. Thanks, Moony_. Sirius thought. They had gotten better at these silent conversations. Remus grinned at him. Cheeky bastard.

"Up. Up. Mummy, Up!" Harry's arms shot up in the air as he looked at Remus, with an expectant look in his eye. _Pick me up please._

Remus groaned.

"All right." he said, a resigned look in his eye, "Just one." He scooped up an eager Harry in his arms and then threw him up above his head. Harry squealed with delight before Remus caught him deftly and snuggled him into his chest. Harry was more than happy to oblige, he was still very clingy. Poor little tyke.

Sirius had noticed that he could always feel little green eyes watching him as he walked around the flat. And Remus always had a little shadow trailing behind him. It was as though Harry was making sure they didn't leave him, too. Sirius couldn't blame him. He didn't understand any of what had happened.

How could he? He wasn't even two.

They tried their best to make him feel loved. Wanted.

It wasn't hard.

Harry was so very easy to love.

Though the first few weeks had been hard. So fucking hard. Harry had screamed every night, when they tried to put him to bed. It had been awful. They would just sit there, him and Moony, usually at the kitchen table with cold cups of tea in front of them, or on the living room floor nursing full bottles of beer, just listening to Harry cry out for them.

Then the couple from the floor below - stupid nosy muggles that had _four_ snot-nosed children, who apparently needed to practice the various assortment of musical instruments they most certainly could _not_ play in the very early hours of the morning, who were also in possession of the most foul mouths Sirius had ever met, which was saying something, coming from him - had the nerve to _complain_ about their baby crying.

So they changed tactics. From then on Harry usually fell asleep in either Sirius' or Remus' arms, then they would put him down in his cot. Asleep. It was much less depressing. Though more often than not, by morning Harry would have been brought into Sirius' bedroom, usually because Sirius was so damn tired and just wanted to get back to bed, and so Harry would sleep in the 'big bed', as Remus had dubbed it. Sirius was inclined to disagree, when three people were sharing it, it wasn't big at all. Not that he minded. Any reason for being close to Remus without being creepy about it was good enough for Sirius.

A squeal from Harry brought him back to reality. Back to the Lupin's living room. Back to Remus pulling ridiculous faces at a giggling baby. Back to watching as Mrs. Lupin came tottering into the room, a tea tray in her arms. Bless her!

"Would you boys like a cup of tea?" she asked as she set the tray down on the table beside the lounge, her blonde hair falling in her eyes. Sirius couldn't help but notice the odd quiver in her voice, and the concerned look in her eyes as she gazed at Remus, who seemed oblivious to his mothers attention. He couldn't help but noticed she avoided his gaze. It hurt. More than it should. She wasn't his mother, was she?

"Please Mum."

"Yes please, Mrs. Lupin." Sirius said quietly, troubled by the woman. What was wrong with her? She had been fine when he had dropped Harry off to her the night before. And it was Christmas for Merlin's sake. What had changed?

Maybe she didn't like her new gown and slippers? Did she not like mauve? Did she not like the delicate dragons embroidered on the cuffs of the sleeves?

Or maybe she thought Remus oughtn't to have spent so much money on buying Sirius several special edition Sherlock Holmes books, which were probably the most exciting thing Sirius had gotten since the Marauder's Map was used for the first time on his sixteenth birthday? They had fantastic moving pictures in them; the characters followed you as you flipped through the pages, though Lestrade appeared to have a bit of a fixation on standing right over the words Sirius was trying to read.

Or what if she thought it was too dangerous to have given Harry a toy broomstick? Did she know he had already had one? Before? That Lily had approved?

Was she angry that Sirius had the nerve to think that he had the right to ask Remus to leave her? To move in with him? He hadn't asked Remus, not yet, anyway, but he had asked her. She had been fine with it. Or so he had thought. Maybe she had changed her mind?

His hand travelled unconsciously to his pocket, where a newly cut key to his flat resided, a little red ribbon tied around it.

Did that scream gay? Tying ribbons on gifts for your mates?

_No. Not at all,_ that voice that sounded like his mother snarked, _but the spending twenty minutes in the store deciding what colour ribbon to use does._

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity. Fuck.

Honestly, how had he ever thought he was straight?

"There you are," Mrs. Lupin said as she handed Sirius his cup of tea, he felt the sting of rejection as she barely even looked at him as she passed him the cup, before fleeing the room.

What had he _done_?

The rest of the day was rather uneventful, but pleasant nonetheless. They had watched as Harry had tried out his new broomstick, which had been rather entertaining, until Harry knocked a vase off of the mantlepiece. Sirius received a letter from his cousin Andromeda, who wished him a 'Happy Christmas,' and gave him strict instructions to be at her next family dinner, she wanted to meet her new nephew. She had ignored Sirius' previous letters when he had told her that Harry wasn't actually her nephew. She chose to ignore him.

He wasn't game enough to correct her.

She was a Slytherin after all. She could be rather formidable when she wanted to be and Sirius found it was easier to just go with it. She had also sent along a picture of her daughter, Nymphadora. The girl had been dressed in a ruffly pink dress and her hair was styled in short black bob. Her arms were crossed across her chest and she was stomping her foot. She was also sporting a severely unimpressed look. Merlin!

Sirius couldn't blame her, the kid usually got around with lime green hair, some sort of snout and overalls covered in dirt. He had hastily written a reply and accepted the dinner invite.

It wasn't until Harry had been put to sleep and Mrs. Lupin had long since retired to bed that Sirius worked up that famous Gryffindor courage to broach the question that had been on the tip of his tongue all day.

He was sitting on the arm chair closest to the fire, facing Moony, who was watching some sort of Christmas program on the telly.

Sirius really had no interest in it, and he had the distinct impression that Remus didn't either, from the thoroughly unimpressed look on his face, that and the fact he had been muttering, "Honestly, what a load of rot" and "Must they all finish with it snowing?" to the television for the past two hours.

By the end of it, Remus had just turned the bloody thing off and set up the Wizarding Wireless. Sirius listened as Remus hummed along to Celestina Warbeck's, '_You Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me'_.

It was nice. Just being there.

Being at the Lupin's (even if Mrs. Lupin was upset with him for something, he still didn't know what, he'd done exactly). Being allowed to have Remus in his life. Listening to him hum along softly to what was arguably the most schmaltzy song he had ever heard, and he had once been forced to listen to Mary MacDonald's music collection. That girl was the most hopeless romantic he had ever met in his entire life.

"Hey, Remus…" He began. He stopped abruptly. His throat felt all dry and scratchy. He couldn't exactly remember how to breathe. _Bloody hell, Black - how hard is it to ask, "Will you move in with me?" Its only six words!_

The humming stopped. "Yes?"

"Did you know that you've got more stuff at my place than you do here?" Sirius asked. It hadn't been what he had intended to say, though, that may have been a good thing. But it was true, he had checked. Moony had twice as many pairs of trousers lying around Sirius' flat than he did at Mrs. Lupin's and over three quarters of his books were being used as some sort of makeshift bedside table in Sirius' or some forming some sort of colony of literature currently residing in the living room and kitchen that may very soon start a full scale rebellion.

"Really? That's nice," Remus chuckled, he seemed unaware that Sirius was trying to have a serious conversation.

Sirius huffed and shook his head. "But you live here." he said, pointing down at the ground, pointing at the place he didn't want Remus to live in anymore. Really he was just pointing at the rug, but he didn't care.

"Yes. This is my home. What are you getting at?" Remus asked as he turned the wireless of with a tap of his wand, a suspicious look in his eye. Sirius knew that look. It was the, 'Whatever you are about to do, I want absolutely no part in it', look.

_I'm not playing tricks, I promise Moony, _Sirius thought desperately.

"I'm not getting at anything," he promised. "Just that … if you ever wanted to, you know..."

Remus stared blankly at Sirius, apparently he did not know. So he elaborated. "If you wanted to live with Harry and I permanently, you would be welcome." said Sirius stiffly.

"Oh." Remus said, frowning.

Oh. Oh. _Really_? Just 'Oh'?

The key felt heavy in Sirius' pocket. Almost as heavy as his heart. Or maybe that was his pancreas. Or his spleen. Okay, thinking about his entrails was not helping the churning sensation. Either way, he couldn't help feeling rather hurt. Didn't Moony like staying with them - with him and Harry?

"I'll understand, of course, if you want to stay with your mum." he added quickly. "She's brilliant. But … well … think about it. If you … if you ever ... Fuck." From the confused expression on Remus' face, a cup of cold sick may have gone down better than that. So he decided to be blunt. He was good at that. He pulled the key from his pocket, and held it out to the other man.

"Move in with me, Remus." _Please._

"Sirius," Remus said quietly. Sadly. "I can't impose on you any more than I already have. You've done more for me than I could ever repay." _I'm sorry._

"That's not true. Remus, you're not an imposition." What a ridiculous idea. The key remained in his outstretched palm. "Why would you think that? I'm not asking you out of pity - I _want_ you to move in with me."

He could feel anger bubbling up in his chest. Anger at Remus. Why did he always feel the need to kick himself while he was already down? What good did that do anyone?

"I can't live off you indefinitely, Sirius. What happens when you meet someone? Have you thought of that? I highly doubt any woman would appreciate finding out her husband has to support an unemployed werewolf."

Sirius scoffed. He was fairly sure he would never have to think about _that_. It wasn't even the woman thing. He was pretty sure Remus had ruined all other chances of a relationship for him. Who could compare to Remus? He'd never met anyone else like him, would never want to be with anyone else. He could hardly tell that to Remus though, now could he? _Think quickly, Black._

"Remus," Sirius said solemnly, "if you think that I would be attracted to someone who didn't accept you, or our friendship, or the fact that we regularly share a bed, then you are sorely mistaken. You and Harry are my family. You are more important to me than any bird ever could be."

"Sirius-"

"No. Listen to me Remus Lupin. If you don't want to move in with me, that's fine, really. I won't take offence, so long as that's what _you_ want to do. Not what you think is best for me, 'cause I'm pretty sure having you around is what's best for me. I'm a mess otherwise." _Please want to be with me. Please._

He had never laid his heart out so bare before. He had never admitted he had needed anyone before. So he figured it was somewhat appropriate he was telling Remus first.

_I love you. Please, just like me back a little._

Remus was staring at him, in that way only he could, as though he was really seeing Sirius. It gave Sirius butterflies in his stomach. Could he possibly see how much he meant to Sirius? Could he see how much Sirius loved him? Silence had fallen oddly between them. Sirius could hear nothing, save the sound of their own breathing. Please. _Please. __**Please.**_

And then finally Remus reached out to him and took the key from his hand, though the touch lingered after the key had been taken. "Okay."

Sirius grinned, and struggled to resist the urge to turn into Padfoot and lick Remus to death. Or just kiss him. Yes. _Yes._ _**YES!**_

"Happy Christmas, Remus." _Thank you._

"Happy Christmas, you daft thing."

* * *

Also, I'm on holiday's less than a week so more should be coming soon. BlackReaver xox.


	17. I Didn't See That Coming

Here is my next chapter, which by the by, damn near killed me - I blame writers block and miserable feelings of crippling inferiority when reading everyone else's fics. Anyway ... hope you enjoy this chapter and again my eternal gratitude to my beta AshleyTangerine.

* * *

**I Didn't See That Coming.**

TWO MONTHS LATER…

Sirius supposed that he really ought to have known better than to have offered to mind Harry whilst Remus reviled in the novelty of being twenty-one, without a little messy haired demon following in his shadow, by taking a trip to the library.

By himself.

Leaving Harry alone under the not quite watchful eye of Sirius.

It was never going to end well. _Ever_.

"Sir'us!" Harry cried as he smacked a toy truck into Sirius' shin, and at that moment Sirius wanted nothing more than to hex Remus' bollocks off.

The bloody turncoat left him alone in a fucking nut house!

"Mummy?" Harry asked. His green eyes hopeful that this nightmare would be over soon - that Remus was home already and all was right with the world again - because he didn't seem too impressed by Sirius' parental skills.

Sighing, he picked up his godson, and, prying the truck from his little hands, replied. "_Remus_ has gone to the library, Harry. Would you like a bikkie?"

Harry shook his head, '_No I don't want a biscuit, pillock.'_

He reached out for the confiscated truck, which Sirius quickly stuffed it into his back pocket, as he wondered how on earth he had learned how to understand baby-speak. It was really quite messed up. Though he supposed communication through a vocabulary of a whopping _seven_ words was going to have to get a bit creative occasionally.

"Right, well … as you were." Sirius told Harry, who was studying him with far too alert eyes for a child of one and a half, as he set him back down on the floor, ignoring the crunch of spilled cereal under little hands and knees as Harry crawled off, intent on terrorising something or another.

Probably their Kneazle, a ball of black and grey mottled fur, called Bathsheba.

And if Sirius didn't _hate_ the devil-incarnate as much as he did - and he wanted nothing more than to make nice fur earmuffs out of her - he would have felt bad for her. Almost.

Harry had taken a particular liking to pulling on her ears. And her tail. And yanking out fistfuls of soft fur. And attempting to drink from her milk dish in the kitchen. Which he may or may not have picked up from Padfoot...

What _idiot_ gives a Kneazle (without a proper license, mind) as a Christmas present, anyway? Oh, right.

Cheers, Hagrid.

How did you know that the werewolf and the animagus who turns into a fucking Grim were really cat people?

_Well,_ Sirius thought, _it could have been worse, it could have been a Basilisk, or an Acromantula._

_At least it wasn't a Crup, _he decided. They were bloody awful and highly territorial. And the flat was his territory, thank you very much, though Remus had hexed him when he suggested he ought to mark it out properly.

That was probably fair.

Looking around the flat, Sirius remembered why he had lamented being left to care for Harry alone in the first place, aside from being on nappy duty.

There were blocks strewn from one end of the flat to the other, and Sirius had already stepped on several _hundred_ of the bloody things, the corner of the coffee table was still smoking, though he still hadn't entirely figured out why it caught fire in the first place (he blamed Bathsheba), he couldn't find his wand, the mop had started washing the walls, the cutlery had entered into a medieval jousting tournament in the kitchen, he couldn't remember how Remus turned the telly off, so he'd watched several soaps that Mrs Lupin often chatted about, and was horrified to find himself muttering madly, "What's she looking at him for? That other bloke was a much better choice," as he tip toed through the minefield that was the living room in search of his ruddy wand, and to top it off … Remus had only been gone _nineteen_ minutes.

Why did Remus had to leave him?

What was so good about being in a library anyway? Aside from the fact that they were quiet and peaceful and organised and basically everything the flat wasn't. Well, except for the fact that their flat contained enough books to be mistaken for a library, he thought wryly.

Remus had moved in just after Christmas, and along with the man himself, came more books than any self-respecting wizard had any right to own. It was utterly ridiculous. They literally did not have the space for one extra book - and this was after cramming dusty copies of books which Remus hadn't even read since he was in school but couldn't bring himself to part with, under the sink, and after Sirius discovered a neat little bundle of books piled neatly in what used to be his sock draw.

His _sock_ _draw_!

After that particular incident, Sirius decided enough was enough, he may now have a wayward charge and a book-loving Mistress, but he was the Master of the Flat, and since he was paying the rent, he got to be the one calling the shots around here.

Theoretically, at least.

So, he had drawn up a list, titled it, '_Very BAD thing's that one Remus John Lupin absolutely cannot do, under any circumstance (except maybe under the threat a nuclear explosion - in which case it is safe to say this list will be rendered obsolete), whilst he shares a bed with Master Black._'

And hastily scribbled, "No. 1 - Buy any more books," underneath the heading in bright pink ink (it had been on sale, and they were dirt-poor, he hadn't turned into a total fairy, yet) and stuck it proudly on the fridge with a blue 'Z'.

Sirius was very glad Remus had finally relented - after a solid two month's worth of consistent pestering on trips to the grocery store - and let him buy the _alphabet_ magnets, under the pretence that they were educational for Harry, of course.

They were _brilliant_, Sirius thought, though Harry really couldn't have cared less even if he tried. The little blighter was much more comfortable wreaking havoc on his toy broomstick, hiding all the _spoons_, tipping his bottle down the back of the lounge, terrorising Bathsheba, and waging war on Remus' books.

So far there had been several notable skirmishes; _The Battle of the Bikkie,_ Oscar Wilde never stood a chance; _The Tale of Two Books, _who got flushed alongside yet another dummy and blocked all the pipes and Remus had to telephone a 'pumbler', or something like that to come and unblock it; _Harry James Potter and the 'Not the Library Book!'_, in which Remus was too ashamed to return the pumpkin smeared book and forced Sirius do it instead; and a whole stack of smaller dogfights in which Padfoot was also involved, that he was still figuring out names for. He would get there. Eventually. Maybe.

Whatever.

There was a _clang_ followed by a giggle from somewhere in the nursery, and with the knowledge that the appropriate response would be to go and check on what Harry was in the process of discovering, and whether or not he had killed Bathsheba, yet, Sirius flung himself on the lounge instead.

What was life without a little recklessness?

_Peaceful, most likely_. His mother's voice echoed in his mind. _Not that you would know anything about that, would you?_

_Probably not. _Sirius conceded, before chasing his weird extra voice away from the forefront of his mind.

It got a bit creepy sometimes, he often found himself arguing with his conscience who he liked to pretend was his mother, when all he was really doing was talking to himself, and then sometimes it got really crazy up there and Padfoot would join in, usually with some naff and totally unrelated comment like, _**Look. Shoes! Get the shoe. That shoe.**_

_**Get!**_

Which was never reassuring.

The telly warbled on, the mop set its sights on the _ceiling_, and Sirius took to wondering whether or not Remus would be upset with him if he and Harry just so happened to run into him at the library.

He probably would be.

And Sirius didn't particularly enjoy getting kicked out of the bedroom like a 'bad dog' when he did something blatantly ignorant or stupid, so it was probably best to leave him be. Maybe they could go to the park then, or visit Mrs Lupin; she had called yesterday, on the _telephone_. She'd been very impressed with his telephone answering skills, after he'd stopped shouting into the receiver, of course, though she still seemed a little reserved. That was nothing new.

_BANG!_

There was a burst of flame from the fireplace, and startled, Sirius toppled off the lounge, landing elbow first onto a green block with very pointy corners. _Ouch_.

"I'm not armed!" he cried as he flailed on the floor. "It'd be piss-poor sportsmanship to do me in while I'm wandless!"

But there were no flashes of green light before his eyes, nor were there any masks or black robes billowing above him. Instead of the fiery death he had anticipated, the fireplace started talking, which was always fun.

"Black? Black ... Sirius, where are you, you idiot?"

He knew that voice. _Thank you Merlin! I owe you one._ Sirius sat up and scrambled to kneel in front of the fireplace, with a relieved grin on his face, to find a head poking through the flames.

"Cor Alice! Fancy meeting you here, would you like a cup of tea?"

"Shut up and listen, Black." Alice said, briskly. "Where's Harry? Is Remus home? Is that a _broomstick_-"

"Alice!" Sirius interrupted. "Don't be daft. It's a mop. Why'd I want a broomstick sweeping my walls? It'd ruin the aerodynamicdesign in the woodwork." He added, scandalised. Women, he found, had no appreciation for the excellence and precision that was involved in making thing _fly_. It was a crying shame. Honestly.

"Sorry." She said sweetly, though she didn't sound sorry in the slightest, "I don't spend much time _mopping_ my walls. I take it Remus isn't in, then? Don't even lie, if he was home there would be no wall washing - one second," she said, her head momentarily disappearing out of the fire, "Shove _off_, Dawlish! Can't you see I'm using the Floo?"

Her head popped back into sight and followed - Sirius noted with mild surprise - by the _rest_ of her. He had to scramble backward's to avoid being stepped on as Alice - all sleek navy robes and muddy boots and cheerful face - landed on his hearth.

_Well, do come in, why don't you?_ Sirius almost said, but he figured it'd only get him into trouble, so he held his tongue. His mind, however, was another matter entirely._ I've got a lovely carpet you can traipse you dirty feet across, too. Why don't you go break all the tea cups, too? Moony'd just _love_ that._

_Oh, shut up,_ His mother's voice cautioned. _You sound like a rickety old hag._

Sirius cringed when he realised she _was _right.

Merlin.

_Shut. Up. Sirius._

This was what happened when he tried to be responsible - he turned into a bloody miserable old woman. _Brilliant_.

Just fucking great. He should just whip out his knitting needles while he was at it, and start telling Alice stories about when he was a young and beautiful maid, and Muggles still believed in dragons and thought burning magical folk was a good idea.

Alice seemed unaware of his mental anguish, or cared very little for it, which was probably more likely, so instead she busied herself by fishing something out of her robes. Then with a cry of, "Ah ha!" she produced a piece of old parchment from a pocket inside her sleeve.

It was worn and yellowed around the edges, with a decidedly folded-one-too-many-times look about it.

"This is for you, from Mad-Eye," Alice said passing him the letter. "He said you'd know need to let him know by this afternoon if you're willing to take the case."

She handed the letter to Sirius, and he opened it with curious fingers.

_Black,_ it began in Mad-Eyes sharp and jagged slant which Sirius could only properly read sideways.

_We've gotten a tip-off about the whereabouts of the werewolf Fenrir Greyback, he's on the prowl, so remember, constant vigilance it necessary at all times. I want you and Longbottom on the case, I have my reservations, but you know how to deal with werewolves better than the rest of if there is ANY trouble (and I don't mean you just being a general nuisance - though it'd be nice to not have to worry about Alice running out of the office because you left toads in her draws - again - I mean you getting too involved, if you're not already), I will take you off the case quicker than you can say, 'Crucio' and you will be escorting the Minister to and from appointments and tea parties for the rest of your miserable word back with Longbottom on your Vigilance!The files on Greyback will be on your desk by morning, if you decide to take it._

Sirius read the letter several times over before he really understood it. Mad-Eye was putting him and Alice on the hunt for Fenrir Greyback? The monster who turned _Remus_, who condemned him to a life of suffering and prejudice? Merlin.

He didn't know how to respond to that.

Sirius became an Auror so that he could hunt down bastard's like Greyback, to serve justice to people like Remus who had gone without it for so long, but he'd never even _dreamed_ of being allowed to take on this case. For a start he had only qualified a year ago and compared to the other's he was pitifully inexperienced, and even Moody hadn't been able to catch the bastard, but also because, well, he had make it quite clear on several occasions that wanted the bastard dead. He didn't care whether or not he got a trial and thrown into Azkaban. He wanted him to suffer. To _die_.

Sirius could feel Alice's eyes on him. She must have known about Remus. Mad-Eye must have told her.

_Bugger_.

She wasn't going to leave him alone_,_ now.

He folded the letter up and put it in his pocket, and Alice asked, "Well? Are you going to do it or not?" _Can you handle this?_

"Are you really asking me that?" He said, forcing a smile, though he felt that it had morphed into a grimace at 'you.' Because as soon as he realised there was no way he could _not_ work the case, he also realised that there was no way that Remus would _let_ him work the case.

He just couldn't catch a break today. Wonderful.

Absolutely smashing.

"I know you want him caught," Alice said, "But … I just … aren't you a little bit too close to this one? I don't think I would have been able too keep a clear head on me if I had been the one to bring in Bellatrix after what she did to my husband, and I'm not sure you ought to do this either. I know what Remus means to you." _If you mess up, you'll hurt more than just yourself. Think of your family, you idiot._

He knew she was right.

If he agreed to hunt down Greyback, anything could happen.

Greyback was a vicious monster, and several Auror's who had been charged with his capture had lost children to him, either through death or lycanthropy. He would never say it out loud, but he knew that the little boy Remus had beenbefore the attack had died the night he received the bite. Sirius realised sadly that Mrs Lupin had lost two children, her daughter and a four year old boy who loved adventures and the forest backing onto their backyard and the starry sky, but had gained a little werewolf and a life of suffering and guilt.

Sirius could hear Harry playing in the nursery, incoherent babble wafting through the flat accompanied by the _thump_ _thump_ of something (hopefully Bathsheba) getting whacked with something hard, and it very nearly killed him to think that Harry could suffer the same fate as Remus. Forced to suffer because of the sins of his (god)father. But then ... if it wasn't Harry, it would be someone else's child. And he couldn't let that happen.

He saw the haunted look in Mrs Lupin's eyes when she watched her son after each transformation, and he didn't think _anyone_ deserved that much pain in their life.

And then there was Remus. He had to do _this_ for Remus, it didn't matter whether or not he approved, whether he _hated_ Sirius for it - he needed to do it. Because he would never be able to forgive himself for not even trying.

"Alice, I can't _not_ do this." He said with conviction, though each word weighed heavily on his chest. Each a nail in his own coffin. "It's Remus. I _have_ to." _I love him. I don't have a choice._

Alice gave him a long, hard look, but said nothing.

Sirius knew she had hoped that he would relent. Something which was never going to happen. He knew it.

Part of Alice had known it, too.

She had just hoped that she had been wrong. He could also tell that she thought he was going to do something stupid, which in all likelihood, he was, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try and catch the bastard first.

He was nothing if not stubborn, and he figured that if he was going to go down, then Greyback was going down _with_ him.

They were silent for a long while, until finally, Alice's resolve broke and she pulled him into a tight embrace, her arms wound so tightly around his neck that it was quiet difficult to breathe, and Sirius supposed she was thinking about Frank, and about what she would have done to his dearly beloved cousin had she the chance.

"We're going to get him, Sirius." She said with a steely tone that Sirius had thought she had reserved solely for Dawlish, though apparently it was for Greyback, too. Dawlish would be so pleased to hear that. Not.

Sirius didn't exactly trust himself to say anything rational at that moment, so he stayed silent. Alice let go of him and said sternly, "I've only got one condition … you have to tell Remus. If you don't, I will."

He _promised_ her that he would.

It was a lie.

He watched as she Flooed back to work, guilt gnawing in his chest. Betrayal was something that came all too easily for him, no matter how hard he tried to fight against it. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered to even try being better than his family.

It was easier - more natural, even - to be horrid and cruel and _Black_.

But then he noticed the mop had started to wash the picture frames hung on the wall - and his _real_ family looked back at him from the black and white photographs that were barely visible behind soapy glass.

They were all there.

His family.

Prongs. Mr and Mrs Potter. Lily. Regulus (though he only featured in one blurred photograph that Sirius had found at the bottom of his school trunk). Mr and Mrs Lupin. Harry. Remus.

And he remembered why he had fought so hard against what he had been raised to be. They thought he was better than that, better than one of those Blacks, and Sirius was determined to prove them right.

They deserved that much for dealing with all the shit that was involved in loving him. It was the most ridiculous thing, he decided - _Love_.

It was the ultimate wanker of emotions.

It was inconvenient and irrational and it hurt a _whole fucking lot_ the majority of the time.

But it was brilliant. Totally bonkers. It was insane and scary and safe.

And it made him better. _Good_.

It made him fight harder.

He watched as James and Lily lived their first tender moments as a newly wedded couple, hand in hand, identically blissful smiles smacked on their faces. James' hair stuck up at odd ends, and his glasses were falling off the end of his _nose_, and Lily's veil had caught in the wind and was half-off her head - but they looked so _happy_ and so in love it didn't matter.

And he watched as Mrs Potter hugged his seventeen year old self, a doting smile on her face as he made some ridiculous joke which made Mr Potter whack him on the shoulder. They were the most real parent's he had ever had. He missed them, too.

_Would they have accepted my … preferences?_ He wondered.

As Mr Potter placed a comforting hand on his shoulder in the picture, with a caring smile identical to his wife's, Sirius hoped that they would have.

His eyes wandered to the picture of him and Prongs mucking about in the Great Lake; James with seaweed wrapped around his head looking certifiably insane, attempting to drown Sirius buy trying to climb on top of his head. He laughed at the memory.

That had been an expedition that they both received detention for, along with a stern warning by their Head of House.

"I would have thought that at almost sixteen the lot of you would have managed to wrangle up _some_ form of self control, Merlin knows the world would be a better place for it." McGonagall had said in a tight voice. "Clearly I was wrong - Potter, you are dripping all over my rug, are you incapable of performing a simple drying charm? - Why are you in my office, Pettigrew? You weren't even _at_ the lake - Lupin, stop trying to choke yourself with that camera strap, I will _not_ accept death as a sufficient excuse for failing to complete my essay … No. Really now, stop. _Stop_. Lupin! Has Black jinxed you again? - _Black_! Stop laughing this instant, this is _serious_!"

To which Sirius had replied, "Professor, you wound me. I am always _serious_, how could you suggest otherwise?"

McGonagall had cried that day.

Good times.

Then there was the picture of James, Lily, Remus and Sirius, with one torn edge where Wormtail had been. It had been taken the day they left school.

He smiled as James winked and chucked a rude gesture his way, and Lily punched the twat in the gut for it. Remus had his arms crossed over his chest and was glaring at the black faired figure beside him - with good reason, Sirius conceded - as the Sirius in the picture stuck sticks in his hair and then proceeded to lick the side of his face.

They all look so young and happy and innocent, and in Moony's case, ridiculous.

Sirius just wished that they were still _here_. With him. Because he missed them so much. Sometimes he feared that with out them, all that was left of him was the grief and the self pity and the hate.

_No_, he told himself. He was more than that. He hadn't lost everyone.

Harry and Remus, were with him still. After everything. They were why he was still _fighting_.

And he found that was reason enough.

After that small epiphany, Sirius had gone and made sandwiches for him and Harry (which Harry took great delight in throwing at Sirius' head), found his wand hidden underneath Harry's cot, rescued Bathsheba from the dastardly clutches of the toy box, finally figured out how to turn the ruddy television off, though he suspected that using a severing charm on the cords that connected it into the wall probably wasn't a good idea, and that Remus would likely hex him when he found out, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Might as well he hanged for a dragon as for and egg, and all that rot.

He also learned that leaving ink bottles within reaching distance of curious little somebodies was a truly terrible idea, and he paid for it dearly when he realised, a moment too late, that Harry had thrown the bottle at the wall, shattering the glass across the kitchen floor and Sirius could only _watch_ on in dismay as red ink poured down the wall like blood.

Wonderful, that was.

"Fuck!" He wailed, sinking to the floor, his head cradled in his hands, Harry clapping excitedly at the chaos he had created from his highchair. "Remus'll be chuffed to buggery when he get home and finds out we've redecorated the whole place." Sirius muttered, taking a moment to admire the _redness_ of the ink as it pooled onto the floorboards. _Lovely_.

"Actually, Padfoot," a voice called from the door, "I'd have been much happier if I'd found you wearing an apron. It would be terribly domestic, and I could do for a laugh."

Sirius looked up sharply - (_"Mummy!"_ Harry cried excitedly) - to find Remus leaning against the doorway leading into the kitchen; all sharp angles poking through worn clothes, rain smattered fingers rapping across the chipped paint on the wood of the door jam, with wind tussled hair that wouldn't go amiss in a Potter family picture, and a cheeky grin itching at the corners of his mouth.

_Fuck_.

Just … Justfuck.

As Sirius' breath actually _hitched_ as he looked at Remus, he wondered who the fuck hated him so much in the afterlife to torture him so. At that moment Sirius would have given anything to have been able to pull Remus down onto the floor and shag him senseless. _Right there._

In the _kitchen_.

Never mind that Harry was still in the room. He was only a baby, he wouldn't know what he was witnessing - No. _Stop_.

That was wrong on so many levels that he couldn't even … no. _Merlin_.

He was so screwed. But hell would sooner freeze over than Sirius let anyone else know he was screwed, so with a leer, he quipped back a retort at Remus.

"Please. If anyone is going to be wearing an apron around here, it'd be you." Remus huffed in indignation and Sirius grinned wickedly at him, Greyback and his betrayals already forgotten. Harry giggled and threw another piece of bread at Sirius.

It missed.

"I can see it now," he elaborated, arms gesticulating wildly. "All pink and ruffly, and it'd get caught underneath you as you scrubbed the floor like a good little house-wolf, down on your hands and knees -" (which Sirius realised was exactly how he wanted Remus at that moment, on his hands and knees, which was definitely. Not. On.) "- Or - or standing. I don't mind. However you want to do it - Er - want to clean, that is. However you want to _clean_. How was the library?"

Remus looked at Sirius as though he did not know what to make of that comment, and quite frankly, neither did Sirius, but recovered quickly as he sat down beside Harry, whose eyelids seemed to be growing heavier by the second. _Thank Merlin._

Nap time.

"I'll have you know I had an _eventful_ trip," Remus began in a calm and rational tone. Which meant his experience really had been anything _but_ calm and rational. "There I was, minding my own business, when this oldcrone with about three teeth to her name came up to me and tried to cop a feel, which … personally I found quite flattering, though she smelled a bit like rotting garlic and tar."

Sirius let out a bark of laughter at the thought of Remus getting hit on by an old bint, though Remus seemed unphased by his interruption, and continued on with his tale.

"Then when I declined her offer of tea and sweets - which I am fairly certain was a euphemism of some description - she started shouting about a star and seven souls divided and something about a diary and a ring and a bunch of other stuff, but I couldn't understand any of it, and in the end the librarian stunned her to shut her up. Apparently she was a regular. Needless to say I shall be sticking to the Muggle library from now on."

"Fuck, Remus." Sirius snorted loudly. "Only that could happen to you."

It was true enough.

Sirius had had his fair share of admirers in the past, but they were never downright creepy like the things that Remus had a knack for picking up, though maybe that was because he didn't have a fondness for shoddy libraries which bordered onto Knockturn Alley.

Wait … what did that say about him?

Considering he was after his male best friend's arse, he probably fit rather snuggly into that, 'creepy' profile. Bugger. _Oh_ … really, really bad word choice.

Alice was going to _wet_ herself when she heard about this.

"Yeah, well … we always knew I was _special_," Remus muttered as he cast a cleaning charm on the ink on the wall, and it left Sirius with the distinct impression that there was some deeper mean to his words, but before he could ask, Remus said, in an obvious attempt to move the conversation along, "I ran into Andromeda in Diagon Alley, Padfoot."

"Andromeda? My cousin?" That was unexpected.

Remus gave him a long-suffering look, "No one of the other Andromeda's." He said rolling his eyes. "Honestly, how many Andromeda's do you think I know? Don't answer that - I couldn't bear one of you're explanations about how I really know eleven Andromeda's, though really one was a Murtlap we studied in Care of Magical Creatures, or whatever else springs to your mind when faced with questions you _aren't_ supposed to answer - I meant it. Close your mouth. _All_ the way. Good boy."

_I need to get Remus out more, he's spent way too much time conversing with Harry_, Sirius decided. _Good boy, my arse._

"Anyway, I didn't even realise it was her at first. I ran into her outside that Twilfitt and Tatting's, quite literally. She had a good laugh, I was quite startled before she introduced herself. I - I thought …" _Bellatrix. She looked just like Bellatrix._

"Yeah, I know." Sirius said, understanding. The family resemblance was quite striking. "How was she?"

"Upset with you." Remus told him, grinning, as he took Harry out of his highchair and held his sleeping form in his arms. "She told me to tell you that if you ignored another one of her letters, she was sending you to the top of her 'Woeful Relations List -"

Which really was a truly awful punishment, considering they had a cousin who once tried to pass a bill through the Ministry to make Muggle-hunting _legal._

"- and that she would like to see more of Harry than a tuft of hair in a blurry picture in the _Daily Prophet_ on slow news days. So … fess up. Why are you avoiding her?"

Sirius fidgeted in his spot on the floor. Scratched his nose.

Tapped his foot.

"She's been trying to set me up with some bird," he admitted finally, not looking at Remus.

He heard Remus snort. "And that's a problem, is it?" He asked, clearly amused. "I would have thought she was doing you a favour, Padfoot."

"You'd think," Sirius muttered under his breath, though from the funny noise that Remus made that wasn't _quite_ a squeak, he must have heard.

Shit. Well done, Black.

"What I mean is … I'm not looking for anyone at the moment." _Or ever, actually. My right hand and I are getting along really well at the moment._ "But Andy's as stubborn as an old dragon, she won't take no for an answer. And I'm not changing my mind about it, either." He said firmly.

Remus looked at him with furrowed brows, and shook his head. _I don't understand you. I really … don't._

Sirius shrugged. What was there to say?

They sat there, Remus with Harry snoring in his arms and Sirius on the floor by the sink, for a long while. Sirius felt weird. He could feel Remus' eyes on him, and it made his skin tingle as he glared at the list of, _'Very BAD Things'_ that Remus _wasn't_ allowed to do on the fridge.

He ought to add "No. 6 - Make Sirius feel all fluttery and see through."

The silence continued. Sirius listened to Harry's heavy breathing. It was kind of cute.

In.

Out.

In - _In_. Out.

In. Out. _Snuffle_. In.

Then finally, the silence broke …

"Maybe you should, Sirius." Remus said quietly, "Say yes to Andromeda, I mean. You never know, you could meet someone you really like."

Yeah. Not bloody likely.

Sirius laughed, because it was all he could do. _Why was everything so messed up?_

"I highly doubt it, Remus." He said. _For one, I like cock. Also, I'm arse over tit in love with you._ "But I'll owl Andy. Promise."

Remus stood up and smiling, sadly, told him, "Padfoot, just do what makes you happiest. It's the least you deserve." _I want you to be happy. You seem so lost sometimes._

Sirius gave a noncommittal shrug as Remus stood and left the room to put Harry down for his nap.

He seriously doubted he deserved _anything_ close to happiness after everything he had done in his life, but Remus' words made him feel all love-struck and silly.

He had _Moony_ on the brain.

Sirius got up from the floor and loped through the flat and up to the door of the nursery, lingering in the hallway, where he watched Remus coax Bathsheba out from under the cot. He glared at the Kneazle as Remus picked her up, and scratched behind her ears. She purred contentedly, one of her striking green eyes opened, her gaze fixed on Sirius.

That horrible feline wench!

She was _taunting_ him, because she was the one getting _petted_ by Remus, when Padfoot hadn't gotten a decent tummy rub in _weeks_.

That wasn't on. Not at all.

Sirius crept into the room, a half-mad scheme swiftly materialising in his mind's eye, unnoticed by the rooms human occupants, until he was pressed flush against Remus' back.

"Moony, I was wondering ..." he whispered in Remus' ear, a hand brazenly trailing down Remus' side. He could feel a slight tremble under his touch, though not entirely sure what to make of it. "Where did that awful woman _touch_ you, exactly? Maybe I could make it better for you?"

Remus laughed quietly, so as not to disturb Harry, though it sounded ever so slightly panicked to Sirius, as he set Bathsheba on the rocking chair and turned to face Sirius - who could barely contain the satisfaction of winning over Remus' attention as she scowled at him - and with a quirk of one brow, murmured, "Wouldn't you like to know, Mister Black." _What the are you playing at, Sirius?_

Sirius couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed as Remus flicked his wandering hand away, though he couldn't exactly complain. He'd take whatever he could get. "I can assure you it is purely for investigative purposes, Moony. I need to know how to ask these sensitive ... questions."

_Brilliant Remus, now you've got me speaking in euphemisms! Bloody hell._

Remus snorted, "I don't think coming onto Dark Wizards is going to help you any, Padfoot." He cautioned, poking Sirius in the chest. "But now that you mention it," Remus whispered slowly, as he leant in closer to Sirius, who was struggling to keep his arousal at bay, "I felt terribly violated when she _stroked_ my -" but Remus stopped abruptly as he spied something over Sirius' shoulder, "- Merlin! Is that a _mop_?"

Really? _Now?_

Sirius did his best to ignore the smug look on Bathsheba's face as Remus brushed past him to inspect the bloody mop that had begun to _tango_ just outside the nursery door.

He failed miserably.

"You just wait," Sirius warned, once Remus was out of earshot, as she looked at him with maddening superiority gleaming in her eyes, "One day, you're going to make a lovely muffler for Mrs Longbottom - she has a soft spot for hideous critters."

Bathsheba hissed at him. _And you just got cock blocked by a mop! Give up, Black._

_He's not interested._

Unfortunately, Sirius had to agree with the muffler.

Remus _wasn't_ interested. Bugger.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed! BlackReaver (does anyone else feel the irrational need to type their name at the end of chapters, or is that just me?) xox


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